Batman: Down Once More
by jjhatter
Summary: Batman is summoned back to a once-more twisted Wonderland, to face an evil even more menacing than the royal Hearts, while his allies in Gotham try to keep the peace, and new light is shed on old wounds. Sequel to "Batman: Thru Broken Glass." R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Hello, good readers! Welcome to the sequel to _Batman: Thru Broken Glass!_ For those of you who have not yet read that story, DO IT NOW. Understanding this may be difficult if you do not.

Now, a few boring things...

Rating: M (for massive multitude of morbid and/or macabre moments...beat that alliteration, I dare you! Also for violence, including death.)

Disclaimers: I OWN NOTHING! Well...technically, that's not true. I do own the story, and the designs of some of the _Batman _characters come from my own brain rather than the comics. (I am not giving names.) However, none of the characters in this story itself are mine, nor is much of anything else. The characters and settings from _Batman_ belong to Bob Kane, DC Comics, and anyone else I failed to mention. This story's plot is based (mostly) on _Alice: Madness Returns;_ the settings and characters from there belong to American McGee, Dark Horse games, Lewis Carroll, and anyone else I failed to mention involved.

Summary: Where light falls, shadows must grow. Batman is summoned back to a once-more twisted Wonderland, to face a danger even more menacing than the Royal Hearts. In his absence, his allies in Gotham City struggle to keep the peace, as new light is shed on old wounds.

Notes: On my author's page, you will find a "Complete Soundtrack," covering both this story and the previous one. For those who have looked at the past soundtrack, several tracks have been changed that were present in the last version. At the moment, only the tunes relevant to the first book can be found there. All other spaces feature question marks. Whenever new characters or certain new scenes are introduced/put up in this tale, a new track will appear. If you have any comments, quips, concerns, suggestions, or questions about the soundtrack, PM me, please.

Now, "let the madness begin..."

**Chapter 1: To Sleep, To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...**

Darkness.

Utter, complete darkness.

Amplified by the soft, steady ticking of a clock.

Or...maybe not so steady...

Was the ticking slowing up...?

No. It had stopped completely.

Wait...what was that?

Out of the darkness...perhaps a part of the dark itself...appeared a string of pearls, from which dangled a silver cross, swinging back and forth like a pendulum its edges ebbed in shadow.

More rosaries fell into view, without falling at all. An infinity of silver crosses and pearl beads came into sight, reflecting nonexistent light into his eyes...

Not crosses any more.

Nor pearls.

Golden watches on brass chains, their cogs and gears whirling and churning like wild, their hands spinning around and around like the wheels of a locomotive.

_**Oh, dear, oh, dear! I shall be too late!**_

One of the watches snapped open, gears flying everywhere. The darkness gave way to a place of equal darkness, bathed in a demonic glow. Half-visible figures took up the background, one hanging from a rack, the other lying, torn apart, on a metal table. In the foreground, a table is set. At one end, he sat, eying his host, seated opposite to him, with an indifferent and calculating eye, hidden behind his mask. The host, in his stovepipe hat, patterned like a chessboard and covered in the signs of the zodiac, flashed a fiendish smile, holding up a teacup in toast...and flipped a switch beneath the table. From behind his guest, a buzzsaw zipped up...

_**If you knew Time as well as I do, you wouldn't talk about wasting "it." It's "him."**_

__The room vanished, and a rain of playing cards flipped and swirled around in the abysmal darkness, fluttering like snowflakes. A particular card zoomed into view, revealing a white mask painted with a mad grin...

_**OFF WITH HIS HEAD!**_

__The white of the mask transformed from porcelain to flesh, the lips changing from paint to thin, scarlet skin.

_**Have you heard this one? It'll KILL you, Batman!**_

__A cackling laugh filled his ears, and the mouth of the white-skinned face flew open, revealing another face, with buckteeth and a large nose. It sneered, and opened its mouth, revealing a face shrouded in a burlap bag. It chuckled darkly and opened its own mouth, revealing a pit of flames.

_**Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!**_

Then, without warning, purplish waves of water doused the flames. As the violet-toned mist they spewed up cleared, a new destination came into view: a peaceful river, its waters a pale lavender, with lush, green trees on the muddy banks at each side. He realized he was sitting in a boat, and, when he looked down, he saw he was in his costume.

"You're a tad late, Mr. Wayne," said a voice.

He looked up. A scrawny rabbit in a red waistcoat and black piper hat, with short, white hair and fingerless gloves on his paws, stared at him with one large, pink eye; its other eye was swollen shut, the lids lined in a thin layer of mucous. It smiled gently, its large front teeth evident. In one hand it held a golden watch, with spear-shaped hands and a pin shaped like a skull, the watch glass cracked. Between him and the odd lapin was a tray with two china teacups, a bowl of sugar cubes, and a china teapot. The two of them sat in what seemed to be a canoe, covered in leaves.

"How many lumps?" asked the White Rabbit.

Batman paused.

"...Two. Please."

Rabbit smirked, and poured two cups of tea, putting two cubes of sugar in each. He handed one to Batman, and stirred his own with a claw.

"I see you are as talkative as ever, sir."

"Is this a dream, or am I really in Wonderland?"

"Well, that depends, doesn't it?"

"Depends on what?"

"How you dream it."

A silence.

"You don't look any different than from when we last met, Rabbit."

"On the contrary; I am not squashed into the dirt right now."

"I meant your appearance hasn't changed. It's strange...everything else here seems different, somehow."

"Things here have changed. That doesn't mean the people do."

"And change is good."

Rabbit stared at him solemnly. Batman put down his untouched tea.

"Isn't it?"

Rabbit opened his mouth, but it was not his voice that spoke once his whiskered lips started moving.

_"Different,"_ he PURRED_,_ _"denotes neither bad nor good, but it certainly means 'not the same.'"_

Without warning, Rabbit dropped his teacup. He let out a short shriek, and curled up into a ball, quivering, as if he was cold.

Batman stood, and cautiously approached, confused and concerned.

"What's happening? Are you well?"

Rabbit looked up.

His one good eye was filled with tears.

"No," he croaked. "I'm MAD."

Batman's eyes widened, and he recoiled, as blood began to trickle from the White Rabbit's swollen eyelids and mouth, his ears and nose twitching erratically, tears running down like miniature streams from his single pink eye.

"Is something wrong?"

Batman didn't have time to take back the admittedly stupid query.

At that moment, all Hell broke loose.

**"Something...**_**wrong?"**_hissed Rabbit in a rough, metallic-sounding voice. **"Rather! **_**Batman, WHAT HAVE YOU **__**DONE?**_**"**

Batman didn't know, nor care, how, but Rabbit's head exploded. There was no warning, no apparent reason, but the skull of the White Rabbit had simply vanished from his shoulders, leaving a fountain of blood and gore in its place. Sticky, crimson fluid splashed across Batman's costume. He drew back in horror, nearly falling out of the boat.

_"Don't struggle, Bruce,"_ purred the voice again. _"Let the new Wonderland emerge."_

Batman looked around. Around him, the trees spontaneously combusted, the mud soon filled with ashes. The violet river turned a dreadful shade of black, the once sweet-smelling waters becoming rancid.

Then he realized it wasn't water at all, but saturated tar.

And the worst was yet to come.

From the tar, an arm arose. It was not an arm of flesh, but plastic. The arm was followed by a body, which was also made of plastic, wearing nothing but a soiled, tar-stained diaper, and atop this body was perched a plastic head.

It was a giant baby doll.

The grisly creature giggled, and let out a beastial roar. Four more dolls arose from the tar. They trudged for the boat. Batman reached for his belt fast...

He was no longer in his costume. He was dressed in a business suit.

Three of the tar-covered dolls lunged, one grabbing his legs, the other two taking hold of an arm. The tugged him in two directions. He groaned in pain, writhing and trying to break free, as the other two dolls approached. Each held up one arm...and their pudgy, plastic hands grew long, bloodstained _claws._

The claws came down...

_**"Master Bruce? Master Bruce! Wake up!**_

__Bruce Wayne gasped in fright, bathed in cold sweat, sitting up straight in bed, topless. He ran a hand through his hair.

"At the risk of sounding idiotic, sir, are you all right?"

"A-Alfred?"

Alfred Pennyworth, confidant and butler, crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

"No, sir. I am the King of Spain. What happened?"

"I was about to ask the same thing."

"Well...to put it bluntly sir, you were shouting in your sleep."

Bruce blinked.

"What did I say?"

"I couldn't make out most of it," Alfred said, slowly, "but I distinctly heard you say the following: 'Pollution,' 'corruption,' 'it's killing me,' 'Wonderland is destroyed,' and 'my mind is ruins.'"

Bruce Wayne, a.k.a. Batman, turned away, setting his gaze on his bedsheets.

"Wonderland..."

"Perhaps you have the Mad Hatter on your mind, sir?" Alfred suggested. "Frightful fellow, that one...able to control people's minds and all that."

"Not quite as frightful as his friend," Bruce said, a bit calmer now.

"Ah, the Scarecrow. They both escaped from Arkham Asylum three days ago, right?"

"The Hatter's men got them out, to say nothing of the March Hare."

"Hmph," snorted Alfred. "You'd think on your rare nights off, you could get some sleep."

Bruce smiled wryly.

"I often think the same thing."

A pause.

"This isn't the first one."

"Beg pardon, sir?"

"My nightmare, Alfred...I had one like it two nights ago. It wasn't quite as bad, but still, it was...comparable..."

"I'm no expert in dreams, Master Bruce," Alfred sighed. "As much as I know you'll resent it, might I suggest a talk with a psychiatrist?"

Bruce scowled.

"A shrink is the last thing I need, Alfred."

The moustached man blinked, cocking his head to one side, unconvinced.

Bruce Wayne sighed loudly.

"You've already set up an appointment, haven't you?"

"I knew about your last dream, sir. It's hard not to hear the screaming. You recall Professor Strange?"

"Who?"

"Professor Hugo Strange; head of the Wayne Home for Wayward Youth. I'm told he's an excellent doctor, and it was your own father who put him in the position he is currently in; the two were schoolmates."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Family friendships are not enough to convince me to see this Strange person, Alfred."

"Convincing or not, sir, you are going," Alfred said. His voice left no room for argument. "The appointment is tomorrow, at 6:00 p.m. I'm sure tea with the good professor should be most...interesting."

Bruce Wayne sighed again.

"You'll do anything to help me, won't you?"

"Not quite, sir," smiled Alfred. "That's where Master Tim comes in."

"Robin...right. Is he...?"

"In the Batcave, sir. He finished patrol not long after you. I suspect by now he's fallen asleep face-first before the Batcomputer, unless my watch is wrong."

Bruce nodded, tiredly, and yawned softly. Alfred chuckled.

"Well, sir...seeing as you have a visit with a professor of high esteem tomorrow, and as it seems unlikely your...er...'night job' will permit you a proper rest in the near future, might I suggest you try falling asleep again?"

"A great idea," Bruce drawled. "But don't expect it to work out."

Alfred let out a sharp bark of laughter, then, remembering who he was, covered it up with a cough.

"Yes, well...goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Alfred. Send Tim to bed; he needs to rest up as much as I do."

Alfred nodded, and left the room. Bruce Wayne lay back down in bed.

But he didn't dare fall asleep.

Not when he heard the soft, haunting whispers at the corners of his mind

_What have you done, Batman? What have you done...?_

He wished he could answer.

But it was hard to do that when he didn't know what he'd done himself.

Elsewhere, two glowing yellow eyes narrowed.

"Well," purrs a voice. "If you won't come to us, Batsy, I suppose we'll just have to come and get you..."

A vast, fang-filled smile follows this.


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: New track added to "BatAlice" soundtrack. The death of the Waynes featured in this chapter is patterned both on the audio from _Batman: Arkham Asylum _as well as the way it was first written in "Detective Comics #33," back in 1939. (Yes, I love older Batman stories as much as the newer ones, in some cases even more.)

**Chapter 2: All I Feel is Strange...**

The Wayne Home for Wayward Youth was a strange facility; part juvenile detention center, part orphanage. Founded by the great Thomas Wayne, the building did not look especially impressive, not much bigger nor much smaller than an everyday-sized hospital; in Gotham, there were at least four. The building was split into three parts: the upper levels were symmetrically divided into two wings, one for "normal" children, and one for delinquents sent in by the police, who could prove more dangerous. The lower levels held offices and various medical and dining facilities, as well as a few small classrooms where the children could be taught.

Bruce Wayne approached the office of Professor Hugo Strange, who oversaw everything and acted as the head psychiatrist and physician. He had dressed in a simple white collared shirt and a black tie, slacks, and shoes. His raven hair was neatly combed, and he smiled politely to everyone he met on the way...a gesture offset by the everlasting, grim light in his piercing black eyes.

He knocked on the office door, the professor's name printed on the tinted glass window in bold white letters. A deep voice from the other side called out to him in response, "Yes? Come in!"

As Bruce Wayne opened the door, he made sure to take a good look at the entire office.

He was in for a surprise.

On the wall just across from him, above the professor's head, an enormous painting of _Batman_ ("Rather accurately done," he later thought) hung from a hook. He stood, overlooking the city below, perched upon a gargoyle. He was poised in a predatory stance, his cape flared out like the wings of the creature whose name he utilized. His eyes were narrow white slits, the body beneath the cape bathed in shadow. The moon cast a dull white light across his form, making the yellow, target-like Bat-insignia upon his chest all the more noticeable.

Immediately, Bruce noticed more "Bat-paraphernalia" scattered about the room: on the professor's desk, he spotted a bobblehead Batman, a shaded lamp with the Bat-symbol painted on the shade, and a glass shelf filled with, just to name a few things: a book titled, _Batman: Dark Knight or Menace?;_ several newspaper clippings featuring Batman's escapades against Two-Face, Riddler, and Mr. Freeze, among others; a manilla file folder with the letters "BATMN" typed onto it, and a good many children's toys depicting the Caped Crusader and some of Gotham's worst villains, whom he fought almost nightly.

The professor himself stood as he entered, smiling. He was an elderly-looking man, with a bald head and a bushy, black, goatee-style beard. His brown eyes were almost hidden from sight by the thick, round spectacles he bore. He wore a bat-shaped pin on the lapel of his dark blue blazer. His pants were the same color, while his shoes were black and shiny, his tie was dark red, and his shirt was white. Beside the bobblehead, upside down, sat a blue derby hat, the same shade as his suit. Leaning against the desk was a wooden cane.

"Ah! Mr. Wayne!" he said, shaking his superior's hand across the desk. "You are right on schedule!"

"Better three minutes too early than an hour too late," Bruce said, speaking from experience. "And call me Bruce, Professor Strange."

"Yes, yes, of course, Bruce! I had hoped for the chance to meet you in person, you know; your mother and father and I were schoolmates. Martha and I were rather close..."

The professor trailed off. Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Funny," he said. "Neither of them ever mentioned you."

"The pressures of life," the older man attributed it to, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm sure between their good deeds and business ventures the two nearly forgot about me; I was glad, though, that they thought to give me a position of such placement here."

"Do you enjoy your work, professor?"

The professor smirked slightly.

"You have no idea."

There was a pause.

"Please," said the professor at last, "Lie down on the couch...here."

Bruce did so, and Strange sat back down in his chair, putting away the paperwork he had been busy with.

"You seem to have bats in your belfry, Professor Strange," remarked Bruce Wayne casually.

"Ah...this," said Strange in an almost shy manner, gesturing vaguely at his walls. "I find the human mind to be an endlessly fascinating subject, Bruce...it's one of the reasons your father gave me this job. What do you know about the Batman?"

"Oh, not much...just what I've read in the papers and seen on the news."

The professor seemed momentarily aggrieved, a sudden frown tainting his aged face, but he quickly covered it up with a wide grin.

"Yes, well...I find the Batman to be a person of great interest to me. From a scientific mindset, you understand. Oh, think of it, Mr. Wayne," the professor went on, in an almost dreamy voice, folding his hands and inclining his head. "The wonders of such a mind; what drives a man such as him? What is his true purpose in life? Why does he feel the need to hide behind that mask of his that has made him so famous? Why must he always champion what he feels is just and good, and why won't he stop? So many questions...so few answered..."

"I can see why you would be interested," Bruce said, growing just a bit uneasy, "but do you mind if we get on with the appointment, professor?"

"Hm?" Strange said, distractedly, then blinked fast, and dug into his jacket pockets. "Oh!" he cried. "Of course, of course! Just relax, and give me a moment."

Strange pulled...something from his coat pocket, and set up his chair beside the couch, taking a notebook and two pencils from his desk.

"Do you know why I am so revered in the field of psychiatry, Bruce?" he asked.

"No, actually."

"It is because I use unconventional methods," Strange explained. "Methods most other psychiatrists feel inclined to avoid. Methods I find immeasurably useful to me. With these methods, and my knowledge of how the brain functions, I have triumphed in many a case. No other psychiatrist has made such achievements as I when attempting these same methods, and none shall."

"...What kind of 'methods' do you mean, Professor Strange?"

The professor smiled, and held up the item in his hands...

_A rosary, with a diamond cross, and a string of pearl beads._

"Hypnosis, Bruce," he said simply. "Hypnosis is the key to my success. What I once used to amuse people at parties is now my most prized weapon in my vast arsenal when on the psychiatric battlefield."

Bruce just stared. Strange cocked an eyebrow and frowned, confused by his patients reaction.

"What is the matter, Bruce?"

Bruce shook his head, blinking.

"Nothing, it's just that...nothing..."

Strange lowered the rosary, and his eyes widened.

"Your servant told me you were suffering from chronic nightmares...very vivid ones, too, he said. Was this rosary in one of them?"

"No. It was in ALL of them."

Strange looked Bruce up and down, and then gave a small smile.

"It must have been an omen, Bruce," he said. "Perhaps this appointment will prove even more successful than either of us can tell."

Bruce shrugged and exhaled deeply.

"Let's get this done, professor," he said flatly.

Strange shrugged, still smiling, and held up the rosary, beginning to sway it gently before his patient's eyes, enticingly. Back and forth...back and forth...back...forth...

"Focus on the cross, Bruce," Strange said, his voice low and haunting. "Focus on its crystal shimmering...focus on how it moves..."

Back...forth...back...forth...

"Forget your worries. Forget all you feel is important. Forget whatever has made you upset in the past...the worst is over. And over. And OVER. Forget it, Bruce...just forget it..."

Back...forth...back...

Eyes getting heavy...

"Let me in, Bruce...I cannot help you if you do not let me. Open the doors of the sanctum that is your mind..."

Back...forth...

The professor sighed. His patient's eyes were closed.

"Good. Now, Bruce, tell me what I want to hear: what's in these dreams of yours?"

Bruce Wayne's eyes snap open. They are empty and lifeless.

"They aren't really dreams," he says, his voice dark and gravelly. "They're...memories. And they make me sick."

"I see," Strange says simply. "Are you experiencing such a...'memory' now?"

"Yes, professor."

"Good," Strange says, an eager smile on his face. "Tell me, then, Bruce...what's going on...?"

Bruce closes his eyes again, and loses himself to the dark...

_It's a wet night. A dark night. Three people stand, alone, outside a stage of the Fawn Theater. One is a man in a black and white suit wearing a brown fedora. Beside him stands a woman in a red dress, carrying a blue purse and wearing a pearl necklace._

_ Betwixt them stands their son, the spitting image of his father, dressed in similar clothes, with dark black eyes and equally inky hair._

_ "I can't believe you insisted on leaving, Bruce," the mother scolds her son. "Your father and I were looking forward to this show, after all..."_

_ "I'm sorry, mother..."_

_ "Go easy on him, dear," says the father. "He's scared. I've already called Alfred, and he said he should be here shortly."_

_ The mother sighs._

_ "Very well. Come on..."_

_ She kisses her son on the top of his head, and he smiles bashfully. Hand in hand mother and son begin to head out through the lobby..._

_ "Wait!" says the father. "Let's cut through the back; it'll save Alfred the time of coming to the front to find us."_

_ The mother eyes him skeptically._

_ "The alley? You know where that is, don't you?"_

_ "Of course."_

_ "But...the police have said it isn't safe!"_

_ "Lieutenant Duckworth and Captain Gordon don't know everything; the people there are just desperate, deprived souls. They need care. If they want money, I can give it to them. There's nothing to be afraid of. Besides, I doubt it's as dangerous as they say."_

_ "But...it's starting to rain! Bruce and I are tired...why not just wait for him in the lobby?"_

_ "Let's do as dad says, mom."_

_ "Are you sure?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "Well...all right. We'll go with your father."_

_ The father, Thomas, smiles._

_ "Come on," he says. "Keep up!"_

_ The alley is dark and cold and filthy. The smell of urine, alcohol, and unimaginable amounts of rubbish fill the damp air. All three shiver as they start to walk. A rat hisses, appearing almost out of the shadows, and rushes in the mother's path, making her yelp. The boy snickers as she glares at his father, who rolls his eyes._

_ "We're nearly there," he says._

_ He has spoken too soon._

_ From around a wall, a figure appears, bathed in shadow. His face is unseen, as his everything about him, save for two things: an old tweed jacket..._

_ And the snub-nosed revolver in his hand._

_ The mother gasps, clutching her son tighter. The boy stares, frightened and confused. The father seems stunned, but keeps most of his composure._

_ "W-What is this?"_

_ "A stick-up, buddy," growls the shadow. His half-visible head turns toward the woman, as does the gun he carries. "I'll take that necklace you're wearin', lady!"_

_ The father steps forward, holding up a hand._

_ "Leave her alone. You-"_

_ The words "can have whatever you want" never leave Thomas Wayne's mouth._

_ BLAM!_

_ The man staggers, clutching his chest, and collapses with a deep, shuddering groan. The mother screams. _

_ The boy can only gape, face pale._

_ "You asked for it!" snarls the dark thug._

_ "THOMAS!" the woman screams, shaking her fallen husband. "YOU'VE KILLED HIM! HELP! POLICE! HELP...!"_

_ Her cries are cut short by a second, ear-splitting BLAM!_

_ "That'll shut 'er up," the tweed-coated mugger chuckles, snatching the necklace from her throat, and then taking off into the night._

_ Behind him, a young boy is helpless to do anything but stare, collapsing to his knees, lips quivering, vision clouding..._

_ "Father..."_

_ His father, white shirt turned crimson by spilled blood, lies limp. The boy touches his arm...he has already gone cold..._

_ "Mother..."_

_ His mother, shot in the head, seems to weep tears of blood._

_ He sobs._

_ "Dead...they're d-dead..."_

_ A small boy cries his heart out, face buried in his hands, salty tears mixing with the blood and rainwater that stain his clothes._

_ Above him, a bat, the only other witness to the atrocity, extends its wings and flies into the night, silhouetted across the moon..._

_ CLIP...CLAP...CLIP...CLAP..._

_ A small boy looks up._

_ The man in the tweed jacket has returned._

_ He raises the gun, still held in his hand..._

_ He steps forward, taking off the cap on his head..._

_ A boy gasps in horror at the green skin, long nose, and silver eyes the shadows no longer conceal._

_ "Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle..."_

_ BLAM!_

_ The boy falls, and the world seems to go dark...time slows..._

_ **"Bruce!" **a voice suddenly yells. **"Bruce! Block this vision! Wake at the sound..."**_

__TING.

Bruce Wayne's eyes opened very wide. He panted, sitting up, rigid, on the couch.

"Bruce? Are you...of sound mind?"

Bruce turned his head to the professor, leaning forward in his chair, brow furrowed in concern. He sighed angrily, placing a hand over his eyes.

"My head's exploded, and there's an anvil embedded in my chest...or so it feels..."

"Yes, well..." the professor started, clearing his throat nervously. "The cost of my methods can be high..."

"Very effective," Bruce grumbles. "But my memories make me want to vomit..."

"I can set you free, Bruce," said Strange. "I've encountered several patients with problems like yours, and, as I've said many times to them before, I will say again to you: the past must be paid for. Here, give me a moment..."

Hugo Strange rose, and went over to his desk, pulling out a small prescription bottle.

"I keep this medication for special purposes," he says. "It is my last bottle. I suggest you take these; just follow the directions. It is probably best if you have two pills now."

Bruce eyed the bottle, then the professor, then the bottle again. He sighed a second time, and took the prescription.

"Very well, professor," he said, and popped two pills from the orange jar into his mouth. The professor poured a glass of water for him to help swallow them down.

"Thank you," he said.

"Don't mention it, Bruce," said Strange. "If these problems persist, you know where to find me. Let me show you out..."

Strange brought Bruce over to the door...

A small boy, with brown, doe-like eyes and sandy hair stood in the doorway. He wore nothing but a blue t-shirt and shorts, with matching shoes, and looked up at Bruce with eyes that looked just a little too wide and innocent...

In fact, they seemed almost empty.

"Hello," said Bruce, forcing a smile to his face; even with Robin around, he could never get the hang of dealing with children.

The child blinked.

"Oh, hello, Charlie," said Strange. He smiled at Bruce. "Bruce, this is Charlie. Charlie Higgins. One of my star patients, and an excellent boy. Say hello to Mr. Wayne, Charlie!"

Charlie said nothing. He looked at Strange mildly, blinked slowly, turned to Bruce, and began to speak...

**"The train is coming, with its shiny cars; with comfy seats, and wheels of stars. So hush, my little ones, have no fear: the Man in the Moon is the engineer."**

Bruce blinked, disturbed.

Charlie smiled a slow, cadaverous smile that did not meet his brown, deer-esque eyes.

Bruce turned a questioning gaze the professor, who sighed, disappointed.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," he apologized. "I failed to warn you: Charlie's father was given the death penalty for stabbing Charlie's mother, who abused him and had divorced from the father, to death. It has left him...broken, so to speak."

"I see," said Bruce, with a short nod.

"I'm trying to repair him," said Strange, and smiled down at Charlie. "Come on in, Charlie; it's your turn."

Charlie's smile seemed more genuine as he pushed gently past Bruce, whispering "excuse me" under his breath, and sat himself on the psychiatrist's couch.

"I have to attend to my patient," said Strange. "I'll see you again, though?"

"Sometime, I'm sure. Good day, Professor."

The professor nodded as Bruce Wayne left the building.

Only once he was sure that his superior was out of earshot did he smirk, eyes narrowed darkly. He turned back to Charlie.

"Now...Charlie, let's forget the unpleasant things, shall we? The past is dead..."

The door locked behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Notes: New track added to soundtrack: Scarecrow.

**Chapter 3: Facing Fears and Madness**

Nighttime in Gotham City. A red-orange moon casts a blood-shaded glow upon the streets and skyscrapers and tall buildings that line the roads and alleyways. The slums get the least of the light, as always; bums in grimy clothes light flames to warm themselves and provide for the light they cannot get. The police scour the streets for criminal activity; there's always a problem in this town.

That's why Batman and Robin were set up for patrol, the Dynamic Duo overlooking the city from Big Benjamin, the tallest clock tower in Gotham City, commissioned by Thomas and Martha Wayne themselves.

"How was your appointment?" the Boy Wonder inquires, smirking playfully, blue eyes twinkling behind his green domino mask, which matches his gloves and boots. His vest is bright red, with a golden "R" stenciled over the left side of his chest. His legs and arms are bound in tough, mesh-like material, worn like tights, which are as yellow as the short cape he wears, to say nothing of the utility belt across his waist. His black hair is short at the back, but long at the front, uneven bangs falling over his face.

Batman shrugs, continuing to look out over the city below them through a small pair of night-vision binoculars.

"Interesting," he says curtly.

"Which interests me; you were the perfect model of enthusiasm going in..."

Batman growls.

"Not now, Tim."

"Headache?"

"How did you know?"

"Wild guess. Sure you're okay for patrol?"

"Always."

Tim looks his "boss" up and down, and then shrugs.

"Well, all right. But if you get a migraine, don't say I didn't offer an alternative..."

"Not NOW, Tim."

Robin smiled toothily, laughing softly, and turned his gaze back onto the city.

He frowned.

"Say, Bruce?"

"What?"

"Have you taken a look at Hargreaves Diamonds recently?"

"Gotcha."

Batman turned the binoculars toward the diamond store.

A familiar top hat was visible in the window...

He scowled.

"Good job, Robin."

"Time for some action!"

Bruce rolled his eyes; Tim was very adept at trite, but enthusiastic, sayings...

The Caped Crusaders each whipped out a grappling line, firing it out until it latched onto the windowsill of a nearby hotel. Like laser lights, they streaked down toward the diamond shop, releasing the hooks and flipping in the air to soften their fall as they approached a sunlight...

CRASH!

The sound of shattering glass startled Jervis Tetch. He whipped around, hat brim shadowing his wide, brown eyes. The March Hare stood on one side of him, and glowered at the offending vigilantes.

Between them was the shop clerk, a 10/6 tag stuck in the elastic band at the back of his cap. His eyes were blank and glazed, and he stood totally erect, like a soldier at attention, mouth set tight in a neutral line.

"Ah," growled the Mad Hatter. "If it isn't the Jabberwock and the Jub-Jub Bird. 'No RoOm,' I say! 'No RoOm, No RoOm!'"

"There's always room for more, Hats!" laughed Robin.

"You're going back to Arkham," growled the Dark Knight. "Tonight."

The Hatter snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Really, Bat-Brain," the March Hare put in, "Someone should write you a new line; that one is getting to be so old!"

Batman said nothing. He pounced upon the Mad Hatter, like a great, black cat on a canary, pinning him to the floor. Robin pounced upon the March Hare, and the two younger battlers rolled across the ground, the Hare snarling as he tried to pry the Boy Wonder off, and Robin grunting and groaning as he strained to keep a hold on his larger prisoner.

The Hatter, however, made no attempt to escape. He just glared up at his enemy, his beloved hat lying beside him, knocked off his blonde-haired head by the force of his fall.

"'It WaSn'T vErY cIvIl Of YoU,'" he hissed, "'To SiT dOwN wItHoUt BeInG iNvItEd.'"

"Where's the Scarecrow?" snarled Batman, hands on his opponent's checkered collar. "You left the asylum practically hand in hand."

The Hatter smiled wide, allowing his buckteeth to shine clearly in the reddish light.

"'ThErE wAs NoThInG sO _vErY_ rEmArKaBlE aBoUt ThAt,'" he giggled.

Before either Batman or his deranged foe could say another word, something slammed into Batman's side, knocking him off the Hatter and onto his back. A familiar, fatty mass pinned him down.

"Naughty, naughty," scolded Tweedledum. "Tha's not very nice, ye know!"

"No, indeed," smirked the Hatter, replacing the hat on his head and rising from the floor. "'YoU sHoUlD lEaRn NoT tO mAkE pErSoNaL rEmArKs; It'S vErY rUdE.' Where's Jonathan?" he added.

"Search me, boss," Tweedledee replied, standing over his cousin and Batman, holding a heavy metal baseball bat. "Ye know how th' professor is."

Not another word was spoken, for Batman's legs sprang up and his heavily booted feet slammed straight into Dumfree Tweed's nose. The flabby thug roared with pain, reeling back and bumping into a case of diamond necklaces. Tweedledee quickly swung his bat, but Batman knocked it out of his hands with a skilled chop to his wrist, causing the goon to yelp, and then executed another chop to the back of Deever's head, putting him out for the count.

The Hatter growled and snapped his fingers.

"Steve, old boy!" he cried, "Deal with this troublesome Bat, will you?"

And with that, the Hatter took off like a shot. The March Hare sent Robin sprawling with a punch to the cheek and a swift, powerful kick to the gut, sending the teenaged hero across the room and into a wall, so hard the landing caused a painting to fall on his head, and then ran after his partner.

"Robin!" Batman yelled, but didn't have time to do anything else, for the mesmerized clerk grabbed both his legs and sent him back onto the floor. Moving robotically, the man then raised both his hands into the air, clasped together, and Batman barely had time to move out of the way as he brought his arms down, causing the wooden floor to shatter under them.

Tetch's "hypno-cards" not only put his victims under his thrall, but also doubled their strength.

Batman launched a quick kick to the "puppet's" right leg, and the clerk fell flat on his face. In his state, the man felt no pain, and soon began to rise from the floor once more, face forever set in that awful, deadpan expression.

Batman jumped around to the back of his hypnotized opponent, hoping to take the card out of the hat, but the hypnotized clerk seemed to know what he was up to, because he whipped around fast, performing a stunning haymaker across the Dark Knight's jaw.

Batman grunted from the pain, and launched a punch to the dummy's nose, but the clerk grabbed his fist before it could connect, and, with a quick, mechanical twist of his arm, threw Batman onto the floor.

_I do believe the floor and I will become soulmates at this rate..._

The desk clerk lunged, but Batman avoided disaster deftly, launching his legs upward at his opponent's chest, and causing the desk clerk to fall head-over-heels behind him.

Before the mesmerized man could stand again, Batman snatched the cap off his head, and, battered, the now reality-slammed clerk instantly fell into a state of unconsciousness.

Batman rushed over to Robin, who groaned softly, rubbing his sore head.

"Someone get the license plate on that Monet..."

"Chin up, Robin. Come on!"

The Dynamic Duo rushed out to the back entrance of the store. As they exited the building, they were just in time to see the Tweedles load the last sack of jewelry into the back of the delivery van, while the Hatter and Hare held the doors open.

"Hurry, hurry!" barked the Hatter. "'HoW lAtE iT iS gEtTiNg!'"

"HATTER!"

The Hare and the Hatter turned fast to the source of the shout, eyes wide when they saw the Caped Crusaders sprinting toward them.

"Quick, into the van!" rapped the Mad Hatter, and all four jumped into the back of the van.

Batman and Robin ground to an angry halt as the van screeched out of the alley.

"Darn!"

"The Batmobile is parked down the block, Robin; start it up and meet me at the front of the shop; I'm going to see if I can find a clue to their hideout inside."

"You didn't get a tracer on?"

"Wasn't able to get to one fast enough."

"Aw...well, no worries. Be back in a few minutes..."

Robin shot out a grappling line and swung first onto the shop roof, and then off into the distance, en route to the Batmobile. Batman watched him go for a moment, and then went back into the darkened diamond store.

He glanced at the shattered glass cases, then turned his attention to the unconscious guard. He crouched down to pick up the fallen cap, and pried the hypno-card from the elastic strap. He held it up to look at it...

He heard a piece of glass crush beneath a foot behind him...

He turned quickly...just in time to get a lashing kick between the eyes.

Recoiling, he opened his eyes again. His vision still blurred, he spotted a tall, thin figure dart out of the store, laughing wildly.

_Scarecrow!_

Immediately, Batman sprang to his feet, ready to give chase. He dashed out of the store...

Scarecrow had disappeared.

Batman sighed.

"This just isn't my night..."

_"Bruce..."_

Batman stopped dead, straightening up at the gravelly snarl behind him. Slowly, he turned.

It took all his will power not to gasp aloud, but he couldn't stop his jaw from dropping.

Before him stood a figure of average height and weight, wearing baggy black pants, black shoes, and a rumpled black sweater...with scaly hands, tipped in metal claws...

And a head with beaver-like teeth, insect antennae, and wide, orange, reptilian eyes.

"Bruce," snarled the Jabberwock's voice. "You are a failure, Bruce..."

Batman stepped back cautiously as the Jabber-thing inched closer...

He jumped forward again.

Another Jabberwock-headed thing stood behind him!

"Bruce," snarled the second Jabber-thing, "You are a disgrace..."

More Jabber-things appeared, as if from the shadows themselves, inching closer and closer...

"Bruce," they half-moaned, half-snarled. "Bruce...Bruce..."

Batman, whipped out a pair of bat-o-rangs, tossing them at two of the creatures. The blades bounced off, as if made of rubber.

Enraged, the Jabber-things let out a collective roar of anger, and the three closest to him pounced. One placed a clawed hand on his chest, while the other two grabbed his arms. Two more soon joined in, placing their black-shoed feet on his shins to hold them down. The rest surrounded them in a ring.

"Bruce!" they chanted, on and on and on. "Bruce! Bruce! Bruce! Bruce!"

Then, rising from the pavement itself...canvas wings, steam pipe spikes, and all...

"BRUCE!" roared the Jabberwock, leaning into Batman's face so close he could feel its hot, carrion-scented breath. "You foolish little NIGHT-CHILD! _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"_

Without another word, the Jabberwock placed a wide, clawed hand over his face, pressing hard, suffocating him...

For a second, he heard the Jabber-things continue, "Bruce! Bruce!" as their master cackled with glee, their prey writhing, trying to break free...

Then everything went black.

Again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Falling Again…**

_**"Bruce...Bruce! Bruce?"**_

_**"Master Wayne...?"**_

"Hey, Bruce, wake up..."

With a deep groan of exertion, Batman – cowl removed, but otherwise in costume – sat up on the bed. He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling, gritting his teeth. Alfred and Robin – also in costume, save for his mask and gloves – stood on either side of the bed, looking upon him with concern.

"Are you quite all right, sir?"

"I'm fine, Alfred..."

He hissed with pain, feeling a numb soreness in his upper right arm.

"...At least, I think I am..."

"You gave us a scare, if you'll pardon the expression," Robin said with a smile.

"What happened?"

"Crane," Robin replied simply, smile gone in a flash. "He must have snuck up on you when you went back into Hargreaves'. He injected you with a liquid form of his Fear Toxin; tried to gas me when I ran into him, but I managed to avoid it. He hijacked a bike and got away; we failed to take the antidote, so I brought you straight here after I found you."

"A precaution we'll make sure to check on next time we go after him; it was a stupid mistake."

"For once, I have to agree."

"What of the Wonderland Gang, sir?" Alfred inquired. "Master Tim told me you had intercepted them, but didn't give me much more in details."

"They robbed the Hargreaves Diamond Store," Batman replied, eyes narrowed. "It's not an uncommon job for any criminal, but, for the Mad Hatter and his Wonderland Gang, it makes almost no sense..."

"Right," Robin said with a nod. "The Mad Hatter is about as obsessed with headgear as with Lewis Carroll's stories; he'll steal, or, as he puts it, 'collect' anything even vaguely hat-related, be it the earphones from a teenager on a park bench, or a painting of a man wearing a derby."

"Then jewel theft wouldn't be up his alley, so to speak?"

"Not at all," Batman confirmed with a shake of his head.

"Hmm...well, perhaps, sir, he's got a different angle?"

"How do you mean, Alfred?" asked Robin.

"Well, you see, Master Tim, Lewis Carroll is not only the favorite author of Jervis Tetch, but myself, as well. If memory serves, Alice Liddell, who inspired the author to write his _Alice_ books, married and became Alice _Hargreaves."_

"The same name as the store!"

"Precisely, sir."

"You may be onto something, Alfred," Batman said, beginning to grow hopeful with the possible new break...then let out another hiss of pain, touching two fingers to his right temple. His allies gazed upon him worriedly.

"But...I think we'll have to follow it another day."

"I'll get you the medication Professor Strange prescribed, sir."

"Thank you, Alfred."

Alfred smirked, and left the room.

"Is it just me, or did you not start having headaches like this until after you saw that professor?"

Batman shrugged. Robin sighed.

"Look, Bruce, I'm going to tell you flat out: I don't like this Strange, character. I ran a background check on him while you were out on your appointment."

Bruce smirked.

"Training already has you that paranoid, then?"

"I'm being serious for once," Robin said, gravely. "Please, listen: there's nothing on this guy. And when I say nothing, I mean nothing: no records of school or childhood, only the information you and I know already. He graduated in, and eventually taught, psychology at Gotham University, and was appointed as head of medical operations at the Wayne Home for Wayward Youth. No more."

Batman pondered this for a few moments.

"...You did say that he taught at the University, right?"

"...Yeah. Why?"

"Think, Tim: Hugo Strange taught psychology. Who was a student around the time he was teaching?"

Robin's eyes went wide.

"Jonathan Crane!"

"Correct."

"Do you think the two professors are in cahoots?"

"Not in so many words, no...but I do think there might be a connection."

At this point, Alfred reentered the room.

"Here are the pills the professor prescribed, sir, and a glass of water."

"Thanks, Alfred," said Bruce, and drank the pills down.

"I think I'll go back downstairs and prepare dinner."

"I'll head down to the Batcave; perhaps the Batcomputer can give me something more on our Professor Hugo Strange if we look hard enough, and, hopefully, any connection he might have with Jonathan Crane."

"I'll go down with you-"

"No; since we're not going to continue our patrol, you go rest up."

"But, Bruce-"

_"Do it."_

Tim Drake sighed.

"Fine," he grumbled, and left the room, Alfred following behind him, smiling, and Batman taking up the rear. Tim went down the hall, while the older men went downstairs.

While Alfred Pennyworth headed for the kitchen, Bruce Wayne went to the study. He flipped up the head of the marble bust of Shakespeare on his desk, pressing the red button hdden underneath, and the fireplace – decorative, but never used – slid aside like a door, revealing a flight of stairs. Batman descended down into the Batcave, and headed to the great Batcomputer.

As he sat at the chair before the immense supercomputer, he noticed the familiar box on the desktop. With a bit of hesitation, he opened it...

And pulled out a handheld looking-glass.

Bruce peered into the mirror, his eyes slightly glazed with nostalgia – and not a pleasant sort at all – as he recalled the events that led to his possession of the mirror.

"I've been seeing you," he said, only half to himself. "I know I have; Hatter, Rabbit, the Jabberwock...are they just delusions? Or are you guys trying to tell me something..."

It would pleasure this narrator greatly to say that there was no reply to this...

But, then, there would be no story.

At that moment, Bruce Wayne gasped aloud as his face dissolved in the mirror's reflection...growing smaller...thinner...his eyes becoming narrower...his ears longer...his lips wider...

"WE'RE ALL MAD HERE," growled the reflection of the Cheshire Cat.

The cat's face was suddenly enveloped in a blinding white light. Bruce Wayne squinted to try and keep it out...

Then came the all-too-familiar feeling of vertigo...the light gave way to darkness...he felt a sensation not unlike falling...

He cried out loud, _"No...! Not again...!"_

Then came silence.

DOWN...Down...down...

"Bruce?"

Tim Drake entered the Batcave.

He was greeted with an eerie silence.

The Batcomputer's screens were bare, and the chair was turned back to him.

Spilling onto the floor, off from its edges, was a ragged cape.

He smirked.

"Hey, Bruce," he said, approaching the computer chair. "You said you'd be looking up things on Strange, not sleeping on the-"

Tim Drake's jaw fell open as he swung the chair around.

An empty Batsuit lay crumpled in the chair before the Batcomputer.

And, lying on the floor, was a shattered looking-glass.


	5. Chapter 5

Notes: Yes, folks, we've FINALLY returned to Wonderland; the rest of this story, as in _Alice: Madness Returns,_ will have us switching at points from Wonderland to Gotham City. The Gotham City storyline will, of course, feature Robin, Hugo Strange, Alfred, the Wonderland Gang, Scarecrow, and some other characters, whose names shall be revealed at a later date. I'm hoping to keep as many of these characters as possible a surprise until their entrance, so don't even THINK about asking me who they are! Now, without further ado...

**Chapter 5: Return to the Darkness**

Batman opened his eyes with a short growl.

Before he even began to open them, he knew he'd be in his cowl, and that he would no longer be in the Batcave.

He looked around at his surroundings with a bit of surprise; he had landed in a misty, marshy area, on the banks of a muddy, algae-infested stream, which was filled with large bits of driftwood that resembled giant dominos. The water came from a peculiar sort of waterfall, which came from the "eyes" of a large stone sculpture, depicting a weeping woman, her hands on her ears, her face twisted in a rictus of agony.

He brushed himself off as he stood, and approached the river, crossing it by means of several stones – which resembled enormous marbles – that rose above the surface. He continued to gaze about, taking in his surroundings...listening to the croaking of distant frogs, taking in the smell of the mist...

"About time you arrived, Batman."

Batman looked up into a tree that stood to his left. As he had suspected, lounging in the branches was the Cheshire Cat, his fang-toothed smile as wide as ever, his yellow eyes glowing dimly in the mist. His tail swung about below him, like the rope of a gallows, and the rest of him contentedly sat on the branch. He was exactly as Batman remembered him; lanky and gaunt, his short, gray fur decorated with arcane tattoos and mystic symbols, a silver hoop earring dangling from one pointed, furry ear, which twitched when a small fly sought to land upon it.

There they stood, face to face, saying nothing at all, for at least a good two minutes.

"I take you are not going to begin the conversation?" the cat purred, his silky, husky voice as nonchalant as ever.

"You're as mangy as I remember you," Batman said simply. "And that smile is no comfort at all."

Cheshire chuckled.

"And you've picked up a bit of an attitude," he hissed, grin widening with pleasure, and then added, sarcastically, "Still curious and willing to learn, I hope?"

"I'm not in the mood for games, Cheshire; we've been over this before, and, just like before, I am very much on edge."

"Purr-fect," said Cheshire. "When you're not on edge, you're taking up too much space!"

Batman snorted, and turned away, beginning to walk off.

"You are no help at all..."

"But you know I can be," meowed the cat, appearing at Batman's side in a swirl of golden mist, smiling far too innocently to be sincere, batting his eyes cheekily.

"I can do a fine job of annoying myself when I feel like it."

The cat laughed.

"I'm sure you can, Batsy."

"Those dreams were messages, weren't they?"

"Indeed; how astute you are."

Batman paused, eyes turning down.

"I had hoped to escape my nightmares, not be plunged into another one..."

"Abandon that hope," Cheshire hissed, sharply. "A new law reigns in Wonderland, Batsy, it's very rough for all of us, to say the least."

Here, the cat peered around anxiously.

"Frankly, we're at risk here..."

"What has happened?"

"Do you want the short version, or the long version?"

"Somewhere in the middle would be preferred."

The cat rolled his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Well," he began, "After your first run-around in our world, if you recall, I sent you a letter..."

"Yes. It said that things were back to normal."

"Almost," corrected Cheshire, shaking his head. "Our world still _looked_ about as twisted as you left it; I suspect your subconscious was to blame for that. However, looks, as you know better than most, can be deceiving."

Batman nodded, urging the cat to continue.

"Unfortunately, our peace was not to last; what was a few days of nightmares to you was excruciating weeks for us."

"Are you trying to tell me that the Knave has returned?" Batman asked, grimly.

The Cheshire Cat's smile widened slightly.

"You need not worry about the former ruler of Wonderland; you picked up his crown...but, now, you've put it down."

"...Which means?"

"For one thing, it means trouble on a grand scale. Wonderland is changing again, and not for the better; the vision of Rabbit you saw was a warning."

A feeling of dread washed over Batman, like blanket of ice.

"What happened to him?"

Cheshire lowered his gaze, ears drooping, but his grin was wide as ever.

"He was boating on the river...the same one by which we walk, but at a deeper point...when something attacked him. We found him, mangled, on the bank."

Cheshire paused.

"He was the first death," he said darkly. "Others came after him. Alice has vanished, as if she never existed at all; I think you can guess what that means."

Batman sighed.

"Something is corrupting Wonderland again...and, this time, it is my fault."

"You are right about only one thing; something HAS corrupted our world, but this unmitigated disaster is not entirely your doing."

Batman stared.

"But, your letter..."

"...Told you that you held sway over our realm, I know. But it is your mind that holds true power over Wonderland. And minds can be invaded."

Batman glared.

"So...something from _my_ world has entered Wonderland?"

"Yes, and no one knows what it is. Not even Caterpillar."

"And, let me guess: once again, I'm the only one who can save Wonderland."

"Naturally."

"Where are we?" Batman said after a short while, looking around again.

"The Vale of Tears," Cheshire said. "I'm sure you recall the name...even if you can recall nothing else."

"Rabbit died here. Twice."

Cheshire growled.

"Even if you aren't the cause of all this mayhem," he said, "I've half a mind to shrink you and gut you like a fish; you've barely arrived, Batsy! Mourning has a time and a place, but neither are now."

Batman paused, and nodded.

"'No time for self-pity.'"

Cheshire smiled with pleasure.

"That's the spirit."

"Where do I need to go?"

"As I told you in your vision, different means nothing else but 'not the same.' We must find the Hatter, Bruce: he knows more about differences than you or I."

"Perhaps."

_But does he know the difference between right and wrong..._

"I imagine getting to the Mad Hatter's Domain will be easier for you this time than the first time 'round; in our time of peace, Bill McGill ran a tramway, here in the Vale, that brought people to the Domain for tea. I imagine it is still running."

"So we have to find the lizard?"

Cheshire eyed him approvingly.

"You've been brushing up on your Carroll, I see; is Tetch giving you trouble again?"

"Yes, but that's only part of the reason; if this world were to call me down again – like right now – I wanted to be at least a bit more prepared."

"I see. Anyway, you are correct; we must find Bill, take the tramway to the Mad Hatter's Domain, and find the Mercurial Master of Time himself. Perhaps he can assist us...if his dreams of conquest haven't deluded him again."

"And if they have?"

Cheshire eyed him solemnly, a look that wasn't very often used by him.

"We pray, for starters."


	6. Chapter 6

Notes: New track added to soundtrack: Nightwing.

**Chapter 6: Too Many Questions…**

"'GONE?' What do you mean by _'gone?'"_

"I mean that he's out of sight! Vanished! Disappeared! Gone bye-bye!"

"I know what you _mean,_ but where _IS_ he?"

"I don't know, Alf! He's just…gone!"

"He didn't leave any hint of where he was going, sir?"

Tim Drake rolled his eyes.

"It is just as I told you," he said. "I came down to see what he was up to, and his costume was on the chair, empty!"

"But…where could he have gone, Master Tim? And why would he leave his costume?"

"And why wouldn't he tell either of us?"

"Or me?"

The butler and Robin turned fast to the source of the new voice.

Out of the shadows stepped a muscular, young man, dressed in dark blue tights and a matching domino mask, which half-hid a pair of azure eyes. His hair was shoulder length and black as pitch, matching his leather gloves and boots well. A silver utility belt was strapped about his waist, with two holsters that held twin Eskrima clubs, which appeared to be made from a thick, luminescent, plastic-like material. The image of a raven, wings outspread, was emblazoned across his chest, the wing tips ending at his shoulders. He smirked slightly and crossed his arms.

"You two should be used to this by now," he said simply.

Alfred and Robin sighed softly.

"True, Master Dick," Alfred grumbled.

"Nightwing, what are you doing here?"

The smile vanished from Nightwing's face.

"Bruce," he said simply. "He called me and told me to come over while I was patrolling Blüdhaven; I couldn't understand why…something about dreams and a mirror."

"A mirror?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"There was a mirror on the floor," said Robin. "I figured he dropped it…"

"Seven years bad luck; not good for Bruce."

"Do you think the professor might know something?" Robin asked Alfred.

"Perhaps…"

"Professor?"

"Professor Hugo Strange; Bruce went to see him earlier today."

Dick Grayson lowered his head in thought; spending most of his teenage years as the first Robin had taught him a few things. One was that when a person goes to see a doctor, and suddenly vanishes without a trace, chances are the doctor will not only know something about what happened; they'll be the reason.

"He might," was all he said out loud. "Where can we find him?"

"Professor Strange works at the Wayne Home for Wayward Youth, but I doubt he'll be there this late," Alfred said.

Nightwing sighed.

"Well, if the old man's in trouble, we'll have to track down every lead we have. Robin?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a computer geek right?"

"I prefer the term 'computer wiz.'"

"Then you know how to search for Strange's place?"

"I already did; he lives on May Boulevard, 1865."

Nightwing nodded.

"Then let's get moving; with the Wonderland Gang loose, the longer Batman's gone, the longer the Hatter has a field day."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Ruination**

Batman walked through the Vale of Tears until he reached the end of the purple river.

He raised an eyebrow at the river's origin point.

The source of the purple water was a giant, pink flask, which was overturned, its enormous cap lying on the ground. The bottle apparently never got empty, for an endless stream of purple fluid kept pouring from it, creating a pool, which then fed the river.

Hanging from the neck of the flask was a tag that read "Drink Me."

"I remember Getting-Small Potion to be a different color."

"Though lacking a bathing-costume," the Cheshire Cat purred, appearing beside him in usual manner, "a plunge in that pool is in order."

"Why so?"

"See that old tunnel over there?" Cheshire said, pointing with a claw. "That's why; it's much too small for you at your current size. The _upside_ to your change is that, when smaller, you can see and get to things that are nearly invisible to your bigger self. In this world, every nook and cranny is filled with danger; dousing yourself in this water will allow you to shift your height when needed...at least in terms of getting smaller."

Batman groaned.

"Well...when in Rome..."

Cautiously, he stepped into the water. He waded deeper and deeper until it came up to his knees...then his chest...

Soon he was completely submerged.

He held his breath down there for precisely fifteen seconds. The cat counted.

When he came up again, and stepped out, he was only slightly bewildered when he saw that he looked as dry as ever.

"What now?"

"Simply think of the object you wish to fit through or reach. The magic will do the rest."

Batman nodded and looked at the tiny hole in the sheer stone wall to the left.

...ZWOOP!

He was exactly three inches high.

Cheshire looked down at him, grinning hugely, purring happily.

"Excellent," he said approvingly. "Head through the tunnel, Batsy; I'll meet you on the other side."

And without another word, the cat swirled away.

Batman ran up to the hole – he was so small now he could easily fit without bending in any way – and began to move through the tunnel.

He was about halfway through...when it happened.

_"Bruccccce...Waaaaayne..."_

Batman paused. The hiss came from somewhere ahead of him.

From around the corner of the curving tunnel came a dark, oozing creature, like a snake made out of tar. It stopped in front of him, and reared up, some of the tar toward its top end spreading out like a cobra's hood...

Revealing the head of a baby doll, its empty eye sockets and the corners of its jointed, puppet-like jaws dripping tar.

The creature let out another snake-like hiss, the mouth of the doll opening up, splattering tar all over the ground.

Batman dodged quickly as the monstrous, gloppy beast lunged, smashing its own head into the floor. It shook its head, recovering.

Batman flung a bat-o-rang at the creature's tarry spine...

The bat-o-rang's blade sank into the tar. The creature turned towards him, its body undulating, as if a wave was going through it...

And spat the bat-o-rang out. It was covered in tar, and seemed to be smoking.

The creature let out a third, louder hiss, and swept its body around him; it must have been solid someplace, deep under the tar, because it constricted like a boa around him. He grunted and growled, trying to break free. The doll head loomed closer, the doll's maw opening wider...wider...

With a sickening crack, it came unhinged...

It loomed over him, hungrily...

He spat into its tar-filled eye socket, causing it to jump back slightly in surprise, loosening...

He grabbed a second bat-o-rang, and stabbed it through the center of its doll nose.

The creature reeled back, letting out a horrible, shrieking cry, and clapped its tail over the bat-o-rang, trying to pull it out. Batman dashed down the tunnel passage.

When he came out, the tar-covered monster was right behind him.

He turned, two bat-o-rangs held out...the creature hissed softly...

SLAM!

An enormous paw flattened the tarry snake into the grass, shattering the doll's head. The creature's body instantly hardened, and the paw twisted, grinding it into black dust.

Batman looked up at the Cheshire Cat, who set to licking his paw clean.

"You can return to your usual size, now, I think; just think of it. You can't get any bigger than what you were without extra aid."

Batman did so.

"What was that thing?"

"One of the sources of our current corruption," the cat growled. "It's called a Ruin. They come in many kinds: Insidious, Menacing, Drifting, and Colossal. The one you just faced is referred to as a Slithering Ruin."

"Where do they come from?"

"Nobody knows," Cheshire said flatly. "That's why you're here. We only know one thing: these creatures are being designed by something...something dark, and cruel...and they are sent with one mission in mind."

"Which is?"

Cheshire chuckled.

"To conquer and obliterate our world. What else? Since this is their goal, they act with that in mind: whoever dies, whatever ends up decimated, it is all the same to them; if it is from Wonderland, it must be destroyed."

"Well, then that doesn't make much sense..."

"What does?"

Batman rolled his eyes.

"Cheshire," he said, "when that...Ruin came after me, it said my name. Do they usually do that to their targets?"

Cheshire blinked.

"Actually, no. They don't."

There was a short silence.

"You know what this means, don't you, Bruce?"

Batman nodded grimly.

"If these things are sent by the 'outside' force that's re-twisting Wonderland, then there's a chance that my foe knows who I am."

For a moment, the two companions pondered this revelation.

Their thoughts were interrupted quite soon, though...

"Oy! Ye there! Got any brandy, 'ave ye?"


	8. Chapter 8

Notes: New track added: Bill McGill. The scenes with Bill and the Duchess are based on the first game rather than the second, for no other reason than I never used the Duchess (or Bill) in my first story.

**Chapter 8: Poor Old Bill...**

Batman and the Cheshire Cat turned to see who spoke. A short, hunchbacked figure came towards them. It appeared to be a chameleon, dressed in a workman's vest, belt, and cap, his scaly fingers hooked into his belt. His eyes swiveled about, taking in everything at once; while one was focused on the pair in front of him, the other was busy twisting to look behind him, above him, below him, and to the side of him. The lizard couldn't seem to make up its mind about what color it should make itself, for it kept shifting from green, to yellow, to orange, to red, to purple, to blue, and back to green again.

"Cheshire?" the lizard rasped in a thick, slurred voice. "Is it really ye?"

"Hello, Bill," said the cat, without much enthusiasm at all. "I thought the Rabbit told you to stop drinking."

Bill smirked, his lips the shade of violets.

"Rabbit ain't here no more. Ye know tha'."

Cheshire snarled.

"Yes, and if you remind me again, I'll _bleed_ the alcohol from your system."

Bill gulped, his smirk quickly dissipating.

"You're Bill McGill? The one who runs the tram to the Mad Hatter's Domain?" Batman queried.

Bill nodded curtly.

"Aye, tha's me. At yer service, mister...er..."

"Batman."

Bill raised an eyebrow.

"Righ'...sure ye've got no brandy?"

"No. Only my belt and my wits."

Bill scoffed.

"If ye've got only yer wits, ye've got nothink; wits're useless 'ere. Everythink is downside-up, ye know..."

"We need to get to get to Hatter's Domain, Bill," Cheshire interrupted, sharply. "Will you take us?"

The lizard sighed and shrugged.

"B'lieve me, Cheshire, if I could, I would. But I can't."

"Well, why can't you?"

Both of Bill's eyes shifted around anxiously, his head turning as well, his body half blue, half yellow. It was dizzying to see.

"Th' Duchess," he whispered. "She kicked me out o' me house..."

Cheshire sighed angrily.

"Oh, marvelous..."

"Let me guess: the Duchess isn't good news?"

Cheshire eyed Batman irritably.

"My first, last, and only owner," he said, "and her surly Cook were always far too fond of pepper for my tastes. I left them not long after Alice first came by. When the Cook switched to _Poison Pepper,_ and the Ruins first came about, the Duchess proved to be mostly immune...the Cook wasn't so lucky."

"Mostly?"

"Yes; she hasn't died of it _yet – _it killed her once, I'm sure it will kill her again – but the poison in the pepper, much like Hatter's mercury, has rotted her mind to a bean; her gluttony is all she knows."

"She sees everythink as food now," Bill added, quivering. "She tol' me tha' if I didn' shove off, she'd chop me up and sizzle me fer some stew meat..."

"And so the only way to get to the tramway is to get past a demented, cannibalistic noble."

Cheshire and Bill McGill shrugged simultaneously, the chameleon's shoulders splotches of green against his scarlet scales.

"Fine. Where is your house?"

"I'll stretch a poin' an' take ye there," Bill said, puffing out his tangerine chest, "But don' count on me to 'elp ye when she prepares a spit fer ye."

"Thanks."

Cheshire laughed softly.

"Well," he purred, "I'd say it's time my former mistress and I caught up..."


	9. Chapter 9

Notes: New track added to soundtrack: Dr. Leslie Thompkins.

**Chapter 9: Appointment With the Past**

Park Row.

Crime Alley.

Whatever you called the place, it was one of the most infamous spots in all of Gotham City; its name gave the reason away.

Located posterior to the old Forgetful Fawn Theater, Crime Alley was the home desperate bums, two-bit thugs, punks, muggers, minor rapists, murderers, rapscallions…and one of the City's most prestigious doctors.

Dr. Leslie Thompkins had lived on Park Row for all of her fify-odd years. No matter what people told her, she could never leave her home. As the buildings around her were condemned and fell into decay, leaving only her home, a hotel, and a diner, she remained. Her house, on the exterior, was as ramshackle as the others…but the inside, when compared to the rest of Crime Alley, was practically spotless.

A doctor needs a clean house.

Dr. Thompkins had been a classmate of Martha Wayne, and a close friend, during their days at Gotham University. After Martha had married, and she and "Thomas" had had a son, Leslie remained steadfast to them; it was she who had christened the infant Bruce, and, while she could not often see her friends while she worked for her nursing degree, and then her doctorate, she had occasionally been seen around the Wayne estate…even after _that_ night.

She never went to Wayne Manor now.

It came to her.

Dr. Thompkins was seated on her armchair, enjoying some tea and a bowl of chicken soup before bed, watching the late-night news.

_ "Reports are in that the infamous Wonderland Gang and the insane psychologist, Jonathan Crane, alias the Scarecrow, robbed Hargreaves Diamonds earlier this evening…"_

The doctor sighed.

"'Robbed,'" she muttered. "Not 'tried to rob,' but 'robbed.' Bruce must be having a fit…"

"I'm sure, wherever he is, that's the case."

Leslie Thompkins frowned, turning in her chair to see who had come in. She saw two young men: one in his twenties or so, dressed in black and blue tights, and the other a teenager in a yellow cape. She sighed.

"If you intend to impress me, Richard, Timothy, then use the door."

"Rough night, Dr. Thompkins?" Nightwing said with a smile.

"It's always rough around here, Mr. Grayson. You know that…"

Then she stopped, realizing something.

"Wait…did you say 'wherever he is?'"

Nightwing nodded.

"You mean…Bruce is…"

"MIA? Pretty much."

All the doctor could say was, "Oh, dear…"

"We'll find him," Robin put in. "Don't worry."

The doctor chuckled.

"I'm not worried about Bruce," she said, simply. "If anything, I'm worried about whoever he runs into."

"Well, perhaps you should change that idea," Nightwing said. "We found his costume, empty, lying before the Batcomputer. A broken mirror was on the floor."

"What happened?"

"That's the point: we have no idea. There's no sign of struggle; the only fingerprints anywhere are his own. And there's no hint that anybody got into the Batcave."

"He just…vanished into thin air?"

Robin laughed.

"Yeah; he does that. But this is different."

"And why are you here?"

"First of all," said Dick Grayson, "to tell you what we just told you. Second, we have a question to ask."

"What?"

Nightwing bit his lip.

"What do you know about a psychiatrist named Hugo Strange?"

Leslie Thompkin's soup fell to the floor.

"Wh-Who?"

"Professor Hugo Strange; it appears you two have met."

Leslie Thompkins nodded.

"Y-yes, we have."

"What do you know?"

"Before I tell you…what do you already know?"

Nightwing and Robin sighed simultaneously.

"Nothing," said Grayson. "No other aliases…no criminal records at all…we spoke to him about 'Bruce Wayne's' disappearance. He said he recalled Bruce came to him, and that he gave him some medication, but had no information on how he might have vanished."

"And?"

Nightwing took a small, disk-shaped item from his belt.

"This is a sort of computerized polygraph," he said. "A truth detector; a few spikes occurred, but nothing major. He was telling the truth…at least mostly."

The elderly doctor sighed.

"I thought that would be it…"

"Dr. Thompkins…what can you tell us?" Robin asked.

Thompkins took a deep breath.

"Strange and I were in the same psychology class; I needed it for my degree, and he wanted it for his major. I rarely spoke to him, or socialized with him in any way. But…"

"But…?"

"The morning…you-know-what happened, I saw him again. He was in charge of the Wayne Home of Wayward Youth, appointed by Thomas and Martha themselves. He was trying to get Child Services to give Bruce into his care, by the rules of his operation. They were willing at first, but I didn't like the idea at all; there was also something…off about Strange, even in our University days. We scarcely remembered each other, of course."

"Of course," Robin said with a nod and a slight smile.

"So," Grayson said, "that's when you and Alfred convinced Child Services and the police to give Bruce to you two."

Dr. Thompkins shrugged and nodded almost at the same time.

"I was his godmother, and Alfred was the butler; they thought it more appropriate to leave him in our care than in the care of Strange, a virtual stranger to him. The rest is history."

"Is that all?"

"That is all I can tell you, yes."

Nightwing and Robin looked at each other, nodded, and then turned back to Dr. Thompkins.

"Thank you," said Dick. "We'll tell you when we've found him."

Dr. Thompkins smiled.

"Yes, thank you," she half-whispered. "And…"

She paused.

"And…?" Tim pressed.

Dr. Thompkins frowned slightly.

"And you owe me some soup."

The two men smiled and took their leave.

They had barely crossed the threshold when they shot out a grappling line to the roof of a building across the street, where they could talk more privately.

"Well?" asked Robin.

Nightwing sighed.

"I never thought I'd see the day…"

"What do you mean?"

He held up the polygraph disk.

"My readings were going up and down like a yo-yo; she's hiding something from us."

Tim sighed.

"I thought she seemed scared…the story didn't give much reason for her to be."

"No…that's what's most puzzling of all."

The two had no time to ponder this further, for at that moment, they saw a familiar light in the sky.

A light with the image of a bat set in its center.

Robin raised an eyebrow at Nightwing.

"Should we?"

"Definitely. If Bruce isn't here, Tim, then we're in charge."

Robin sighed again, this time with a sense of aggravation.

"Well, that's just peachy…"


	10. Chapter 10

Notes: New track added: Duchess. Welcome to our first Battle Chapter! (I don't imagine there will be very many this time around, since there is, to my knowledge, only one boss in _Madness Returns._ However, I may expand on some things and create battles.) Just a reminder: this chapter will be based on the Duchess encounter from the first game rather than the second, due to the fact I did not include the Duchess in _Thru Broken Glass._ Now…

**Chapter 10: Spicing It Up**

"ACHOO!"

"Gesundheit."

The Cheshire Cat sniffled and shook his head with a hiss.

"There's a distinct whiff of pepper on the wind…the Duchess must be nearby."

"Good. The sooner I get to the Mad Hatter's Domain, the better."

Cheshire raised an eyebrow.

"You say so, but I don't believe you mean it."

Batman said nothing.

Soon, a house came into view…if you wanted to call it a house. The whole building was lopsided and asymmetrical, and looked like it may collapse like a house of cards at any given moment. Bill McGill pointed at the unevenly-oblong building with one short, scaly finger. One of his eyes – toned purple – eyed it warily, while the other – toned green – gazed up at Batman.

"Tha' there's me home. Th' Duchess is inside, no doubt."

"Stay here…both of you."

"Wit' pleasure," Bill said with a shiver.

The cat only shrugged, and set to scratching the daylights out a pesky flea on one of his ears.

Batman, one hand on his utility belt, approached the house, placing his hand on the doorknob…

WHOMPH!

Suddenly, the door flew open, and something…an invisible force…pulled Batman inside. The door slammed shut of its own accord.

Batman fumbled in his belt for his gas mask; the Poison Pepper-filled smoke around him wasn't a gas, per say, but the mask would doubtless do just as good against it as anything else.

A soft sneeze drew his attention…

To, by far, the ugliest woman he had ever seen.

The Duchess was a most horrid hag indeed, plump with black, piggy eyes lined in blue ace paint, which caused them to be so sunken in appearance they fairly vanished from view, and an upturned nose, more like a snout, that gave her face an almost skeletal appearance. Her mouth held two long gashes on its sides – a Glasgow smile – that made it seem even wider than it was, and her lips were messily covered in red lipstick. Her skin was pale and thin, with her head almost twice as large as was normal, and her nails and teeth were chipped and dirty. She wore a large, sage-colored headdress with a tattered veil, seemingly made from cobwebs, hanging down the back. Her overly-rounded form was dressed in a similarly colored dress and she wore an apron, stained with grease and gore. The lizard's house had only a single room, with everything on the sides, and the Duchess stood beside the one exception to this: a round wooden table, with legs carved with clawed ends, on which sat a stewpot, steaming and smoking and filled with Poison Pepper. In one hand, she held a large grinder with a crooked grinding handle.

The Duchess eyed Batman with her beady eyes, like a wolf sizing up a lamb, and licked her blood-red lips with a fat, pink tongue.

"Mmm…" she murmered, and then said, with a hoarse croak, "Come closer, little bat…properly seasoned, I imagine you'll make a handsome dish…"

"I don't think I'm particularly tasteful."

The Duchess cackled.

"Not a full meal, certainly," she said. "But, a light snack, I think…"

"I've come on behalf of Bill McGill," Batman said, getting to the point. "He wants this place back. Now."

The Duchess scowled, an odd expression due to the scars on her face.

"Over my dead body!" she snarled, and held up the grinder like a rifle, her hand on the crank…

BRAKKA-BRAKKA-BRAKKA-BRAKK!

Flaming Poison Peppercorns shot out of the grinder like bullets; a single shot spelled doom. Batman flipped out of the way, and, upon landing, flung a bat-o-rang at the Duchess, intending to knock the grinder out of her hand. The Duchess snorted, moving aside with a nimbleness not expected of such a disgusting ogress, and fired again. Batman moved to the side, and flung a smoke pellet onto the ground.

The smoke from the pellet, mixed with the smoke already in the air, made it very hard for the Duchess to see anything. She held up her grinder defensively, scanning the area with her dark, hungry eyes.

"Come on, supper," she growled. "Let's see those pointy little ears…"

Out of the smoke, two dark gloved hands grabbed the Duchess' stewpot, and spilled the boiling hot contents onto her.

The Duchess shrieked in agony, and fell to the floor, slipping on the boiling water. Enraged, she fired her grinder into the smoke blindly, her hands steaming and reddened by the scalding stew that covered her.

"I seem to recall," came a voice from the smoke, "that you cared more about morals than meals."

The Duchess snorted, standing unsteadily, her face now covered in blisters and boils.

"Morals, indeed," she grumbled. "I used to care, but not anymore! In this Wonderland, its kill or be killed! Take or get taken! Eat or be eaten! Morals no longer have any meaning."

"I somehow doubt that."

The Duchess chuckled scornfully.

"Yes, well…you won't be able to doubt much of anything for much longer. I will peel the flesh from your bones!"

As she said this, the Duchess reached into her dress and pulled out what looked like a roasted piglet. She flung it into the smoke, which had cleared slightly, allowing her to see what she thought was a vague outline of her victim-in-waiting.

BANG!

The piglet exploded like a firework, and the figure in the shadows flew apart…

Splintering wood everywhere.

It was a mere dummy, made by putting a tattered towl and a bowl, with two spoons tied to it for ears, to give the impression of the cape and cowl.

The Duchess roared with fury, stamping her black-slippered, fatty feet upon the pieces of her chair.

"I WILL FIND YOU!" she cried out. "I will find you, and I will tear you to pieces, and use your body parts to make a minced pie!"

"That you won't."

A black, jagged blade sailed through the air, and sliced straight through the Pepper Grinder. The Duchess gasped, and got a great lungful of Poison Pepper. She coughed and spluttered violently…

_Too much…pepper!_ She thought. _Can't breathe…accursed poison…filthy smoke…!_

Then…

"Ah…"

The Duchess stood rigid, her tiny eyes blinking, dropping her Grinder.

"AH…"

The cannibalistic hag's head seemed to swell even larger, her eyes watering, her nose running with a thin line of mucous…

_"AH…"_

Her body quaked…her head went back…

_**"ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"**_

__As the sneeze echoed, the smoke cleared.

Batman stepped forward to where the Duchess stood.

Well…what was left of her.

The Duchess' clothes were covered in blood and fluid, and her headdress lay, torn to pieces on the floor…a large, pink, wrinkled object inside it…

The identity of this pink thing became clear when Batman saw that the entire top half of the Duchess' head had been torn off by the force of her own sneeze.

The Pepper had finally done her in.

Slowly, soundlessly, the half-decapitated witch's carcass crumpled to the floor.

Batman stood, silent, just gazing upon the gory remains before him.

The door creaked open behind him, making him turn around.

"It seems awfully quiet now," purred a voice. "Might we come in?"

"Yes."

The Cheshire Cat and Bill McGill entered the house. Both eyed the destroyed Duchess with an air of utter contempt.

"Well, ain't this a fine kettle o' fish?" grumbled Bill. "Wha' a mess…I'll have to have sum leeches come in an' clean it all up."

"At least you can get us to the tramway," Cheshire said.

_A simple "thank you" would have sufficed._

"I've kept my end of this grisly bargain, lizard," Batman said. "Take me to the Hatter's Domain."

Bill nodded.

"Fair 'nough," he said. "Foller me to th' back."

Bill stepped around the corpse of the Duchess tactfully, followed by a reluctant Batman; the cat simply teleported out of sight. The chameleon brought Batman out a door in the back, and out to his yard...

Set on a sheer cliff, a literal ocean of tar beneath them.

Batman stared down.

"I don't suppose..."

"No," Bill McGill said. "It warn't. Tha' happened when th' Ruins appeared."

Bill McGill gestured further down the cliff edge. His tram was stationed on a small, plate-shaped platform. The tram car itself was shaped like a large, metal teapot, with a glass dome top and windows, with a door cut into its side. Bill walked up and with one rainbow-striped hand open the door to the tram car. The cat appeared inside, curled up on the floor.

"Hurry along, Batsy!" he hissed.

Batman rolled his eyes and entered the tram car.

"M'tram will take ye up to th' Crockery; ye can take another tram up to th' Domain itself after."

"The Crockery?"

"The gateway to the Mad Hatter's Domain," Cheshire explained dully. "You didn't see it last time."

Silence.

"G'luck," Bill mumbled, and shut the door. He gave the car a kick...

The cable that held the tram straightened, and the car began to move.

Batman looked down; the sea of tar was all that greeted him.

_Off to tea..._


	11. Chapter 11

Notes: New track added: Monster Men.

**Chapter 11: A Monstrous Nightmare**

Jake Daas was no one special.

Just your usual, run-of-the-mill jewelry store desk clerk with a wife and a son, and a daughter on the way in his mid-thirties. Brown hair, brown eyes, average height and weight, blah, blah, blah…

This should explain why he was currently thinking to himself, frantically, _Why me? Why me? Why me?_

Jake huddled behind his register, panicked, pressing the button that would call security multiple times...an ultimately futile attempt, as, unbeknownst to poor Jake, the security officers of the store, Dean and Henry's Fine Jewels, had been "incapacitated" by the force that had broken into the building.

"Incapacitated" meaning that the guards had gotten their arms and legs dislocated and then had been folded in half like tortillas before being thrown out the window.

"Come on…get here, get here…!"

Jake's whispered pleas were silenced by a thick, heavy, gray-skinned hand reaching over the counter and hoisting him in the air. He screamed as he was held by his shirt collar, face to face with the unspeakable creature before him…

The beast was nearly ten feet tall, and had to stoop to avoid banging its tough, bald head into the ceiling. It looked human, in the loosest sense of the word, its gray skin tough and calloused, most especially on its hands and feet and chest. Muscles bulged and rippled from its arms and legs, blue and red veins and arteries slightly visible as the pressed against the taut, timberwolf flesh that covered them. Its teeth were yellowed, as were the whites of its wide, enraged eyes, which had dilated pupils, and seemingly no irises. It wore nothing but a pair of shredded blue jeans, covered in blood from its previous kill, with a short, round nose, its head smaller in comparison to the rest of its body, its hair shaved off, leaving brownish stubble.

The "Monster Man" roared in Jake's face, making the poor clerk scream louder, and then flung Jake onto the floor, his shoulder cracking from the blow, making him cry out sharply in pain…

It was the last audible sound he would ever utter.

The nightmarish ogre lifted its immense, gray, sweaty foot, and slammed its rough heel into Jake's head, splitting his skull. The clerk died instantly. Looking around at its work – the dead bodies and the shattered jewelry cases – the Monster Man grunted in satisfaction to itself, and hefted the large sack of purloined jewels over its wide shoulder.

It left through the hole it had made in the wall upon its entrance, and headed down the alleyway, set upon its mission, to return to its lair, where its master awaited…

"Well, hello, Ugly."

The Monster paused, turning with a short grunt of surprise. Who _dared_ follow it?

It saw two young humans, one a few years older than the other, one dressed in midnight tones, the other in red, green, and gold. It snorted softly; this was going to be easy.

"So, what's your name?" asked the bright one. "King Kong?"

"Looks more like Yeti to me," the dark one smirked.

With a bloodcurdling roar, the Monster Man raced towards his opponents. He would crush them, bend and obliterate their bones, turn their muscles and marrow to oatmeal…

They jumped straight over his head, flipping as they did.

The beast turned, befuddled…

Something heavy and white slammed into its face, smacking it in the eye.

The beast roared, and shook its head, one meaty hand over its injured optical sensor.

The blue and black-garbed human stood crouched in a defensive stance before him, two white sticks in its tiny hand.

The Monster snarled; so much for these two ants having a quick death.

"Come on," taunted the bright one, an extending stick of metal held in both of its hands. "That all you've got?"

"Please, Robin, enough with the clichés."

"Well, someone doesn't like the classics…"

The beast lunged again, launching its fist at the dark one. The dark human moved nimbly away, and swiped a stick at its chest…with little effect. With a dark chuckle, the beast struck its arm out, grabbing the blue-black bug by the hair, and flung it at the opposite alley wall. The dark one fell, unmoving.

The beast turned its attention now to the bright one, who leaped like a pole-vaulter at it, using its staff, kicking its legs out. With barely an ounce of exertion, the Monster Man grabbed the boot of the bright one, and spun its arm round, sending the "Robin" to the ground, face-first.

The bright one rose unsteadily on its hands, turning, still on the ground to face the beast, a trickle of bright, red blood running from his left nostril. With a gruesome smile, the Monster Man clasped both fists together and brought its weighty arms into the air…

THWACK!

The Monster Man felt something slam into the back of its head. It turned with a deep growl, only to receive a familiar white stick in the eye for the second time.

The assault from the dark one continued, its white sticks moving faster than the beast could react, striking its face and stomach, the only two weak spots it had. Unable to see past the tears in its bloodshot eyes, the Monster roared angrily, trying to clap its hands together, hoping to catch and/or crush the dark one's head between them…

The dark one ducked, and stabbed a stick into the creature's eye a third time.

Furious, the beast launched a kick into the dark one's abdomen, but missed, blinded. The dark one ducked under the extended leg and, using the beasts own strength against it, sent it to the floor. The Monster tried to rise…

A stick collided with its neck, and the creature fell, unconscious.

Nightwing panted with exertion, and holstered his Eskrima clubs.

"Robin?" he gasped out, moving over to where his successor lay on the ground.

"I'm fine," said Robin, rising of his own accord, wiping his nose on his glove and picking up his staff, which he compressed and placed in his utility belt. "What _is _this thing?"

"Not sure," said Nightwing. "But whatever it is, it's strong. Really strong."

"Well, thank you, Captain Obvious…"

"However, it isn't very fast…its reaction time is somewhat slower than the average human's…"

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning that this…thing is built for brute force, to overpower an enemy physically, but not mentally."

"What now?"

Nightwing crouched down beside the Monster Man, eyeing it thoughtfully.

"I say we tranquilize this thing, and…"

He never finished.

At that moment, the Monster twitched, taking in a sharp breath, eyes opened and bulging. Nightwing practically leapt to his feet, and Robin jumped back in surprise.

**"All...aboard..."** the brute gasped out in a deep, garbled voice, and lay still, eyes still open halfway.

Before he and Tim Drake's eyes, the Monster began to change…growing smaller, thinner, weaker, shorter…

A young boy in tattered jeans, far too large for him, lay on the ground before them. His brown, innocent eyes were glazed in appearance.

The two stared in horror.

"We…we were fighting a _kid?"_

Nightwing nodded.

"So it would seem."

He placed a finger on the child's throat…and sighed.

"What is it?"

Nightwing turned to Robin with a sad expression.

"The neck jab I used wasn't meant to kill, but…this kid's dead."

The two crimefighters stared at each other for a long, long time.

"Let's get to the Batcave, and take the poor guy with us," Nightwing said, looking down at the body at his feet. "I hate to say it, but, unless I miss my guess, this could be a clue to Bruce."


	12. Chapter 12

Notes: Before anyone asks, I just made up the Madcaps' way of speaking.

**Chapter 12: Over the Last Crumbling Mountain…**

The Crockery was the badlands of Wonderland; red, craggy peaks of mountains surrounded Batman as he walked down a path, cut through a canyon or valley between the spires. Aside from the red rocks, he spotted a great many stone structures carved – oddly enough – into the shape of tea kettles, sugar bowls, and teacups. He eyed one of them curiously, noting the symbol of mercury inscribed on it.

His eyes travelled downward, and he staunchly refused to shiver.

Lying at the base of the stone tea kettle was a rusty, obviously unused Automaton, split apart down the middle, as if by great, wicked claws. The skeleton of a Gnome was still visible inside, a myriad of sharp hooks and gnarled wires and chords holding it into the metal frame.

Leaning against it was a small, cardboard sign, with two words scrawled upon it in what Batman hoped was red ink: "YOU'RE NEXT."

"The Crockery's crockery was not always here," purred the Cheshire Cat, swirling into view on top of the stone sculpture. "You have the Madcaps to thank for that."

"Madcaps?"

Cheshire shrugged.

"One of three newer forms of the Mad Hatter's infamous Automaton; the Madcaps were developed out of loneliness, I think."

"Why so?"

"You'll be seeing them soon enough; I suspect you'll know then. They guard the Crockery with zeal."

"Where is the tram out of the Crockery?"

"About half a mile down the path; it looks exactly like the one Bill sent us off in."

Batman nodded and started off again.

He eyed the stone sculptures and jagged peaks warily; his life in Gotham, and his previous adventure in Wonderland, had both taught him to never trust places where it is easy for an enemy to hide.

His training paid off soon enough.

Something shrieked and leaped down at him, hoping to catch him from behind. With a swipe of his arm, he batted the thing to the ground…

At first glance, he suspected the creature was a Gnome. But he soon changed his mind; it _might_ have been a Gnome once, but no longer. The creature had olive green skin, buckteeth, and a long, pointed nose. It wore a large teacup like a helmet, and nothing else, save for a filthy, gray loincloth. A cog was visible in its back, and eyelids seemed to have been surgically removed, giving its silver eyes an unblinking glare. It adjusted its helmet with a soft snarl, like a puppy trying to scare away an intruder, and picked up the giant fork and metal dish it had dropped on the ground, wielding them like a trident and shield.

_"Baglefragern!" _it gabbled, and lunged with its fork. Batman dodged to the side, chopping his arm down fast, knocking the fork away, and then knocking the green-skinned cretin to ground, unconscious, with a single, fast punch.

Cheshire appeared beside it.

"That was quick," he said simply.

"Let me guess: a Madcap?"

"Indeed. You see what I mean, don't you?"

Batman eyed the creature's skin and the cog in its back with an utterly unreadable expression.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

Cheshire chuckled.

"Come," he said. "The tram is just around the corner…"

Batman followed the cat as he strutted around the corner of the path ahead. Sure enough, just ahead of him, was a second tram pad, with a car shaped like a teapot with a door cut into its side…

And it was surrounded by Madcaps.

For a second, the gremlin-like goons glared at Batman like wild things, and he stared back, unmoving.

Slowly, he reached for his utility belt…

_"Neeglierfuu!"_

The mini-Hatters charged at Batman, forks held aloft. Swiftly, the Caped Crusader snapped out a pair of bat-o-rangs, and flung them at the Madcaps. As the blade arced, it sent five of them to the ground, and knocked the fork out of the hand of a sixth. This sixth one was closer to the Dark Knight, and tried to smack him with its "shield," but Batman parried the blow and jabbed two fingers into the Madcap's eyes, sending it to the ground, bawling. He kicked it aside and ducked as two forks lunged at his own eyes. His fists sent these two attackers sprawling, but did not knock them out. They struggled to their feet and moved in again.

Three Madcaps leaped onto his back, jabbering and laughing with high-pitched, nasally, squealing cackles, banging on his skull with their shields and the handles of their forks. He peeled them off, one by one, sending them flying into other Madcaps, and getting the mob of beasts tangled up in each other.

Suddenly, a boulder of rust-red rock, came hurtling down from the mountain behind him. He jumped out of the way, and the slab of scarlet stone crushed at least ten Madcaps, and sent another four over the cliff as it rolled.

Batman looked up and spotted two Madcaps dislodging stones from the cliff side with their "tridents," intending to bowl him over.

_"Dinglandenks! Dinglandenks!"_ they squeaked to each other.

The Dark Knight flung a tear-gas capsule up at the pair, and, blinded, they fell from the mountaintop, screaming as they plummeted to the ground.

Batman ducked as the two Madcaps he had failed to finish off earlier pounced at him. The Madcaps banged their heads together, shattering their porcelain headpieces and finally sending them into a state of unconsciousness.

The sound of creaking hinges caught his ears. He half-turned, launching a roundhouse kick at an oncoming Madcap as he did, and saw the door to the tram open, seemingly of its own accord…

A fork-point caught him in the shoulder, tearing into the Batsuit but, thankfully, touching no flesh. Batman broke free of the fork easily and barreled through the Madcaps for the car. It swung shut, and the Cheshire Cat appeared on the tram floor.

The Madcaps banged against the teapot-shaped car, and it swung into the air and zipped down the cable.

Batman sighed with a sense of relief.

"That was tiring…"

"I'd imagine," said Cheshire. "Thankfully, I doubt the Madcaps will give us further trouble. How are you feeling?"

"All right; they barely touched me."

The cat shrugged. His eyes focused out the window to an area beyond them. Batman turned to see what he was looking at.

Batman had never seen the Mad Hatter's Domain from the outside before, let alone in full; all he knew of the Domain's exterior beyond the clock tower was that it was smoggy, for he had seen a good deal of it while on the back of the Gryphon, not so long ago. Now, he could see that the Domain's title was well earned. It looked like a factory in the sky, set upon a floating platform in the shape of a gear. From afar, in the smog-smuggered window, it seemed to give the vague impression of a top hat, the platform being the brim, and the apparently-ragged crown formed by the factory buildings. Batman couldn't quite make them out…

KEURLLLK…

There was a sharp, loud groaning sound, and the tram car jerked. Everything seemed to tilt to one side. The Cheshire Cat yowled as his short-furred head slammed into the wall.

"What the blazes…?"

Another groan, another jerk…

Suddenly, they were falling rapidly, completely out of control…Cheshire vanished and Batman banged, nose first, into the back wall of the car...the wind whooshed and whistled in his ears...

Far behind, stationed beside the utterly destroyed cable, the army of Madcaps smirked proudly in unison.

They'd heard the crash all the way from the Crockery.


	13. Chapter 13

Notes: This chapter's flashback was inspired by a flashback from the story _Madness_ from _Batman: Haunted Knight_. (A thousand years of praise to the works of Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale!)

**Chapter 13: Twisted Springs**

A small boy sits on his bed, wearing plain gray pajamas. He counts the lint balls he spots on the black sheets. His eyes are listless, his being still, his head resting between his arms, which are crossed over the knees of his drawn-in legs.

His head is filled with a blur of images: smoke, a flashing of sparks, a string of pearls, a tweed coat…

"Bruce?"

The boy looks up, his dark eyes still dull. A woman in glasses, with red hair, stands in the doorway. She wears a blue dress and her nails are unpainted. She smiles softly and sadly.

The boy blinks and turns away from her.

"Hello, Aunt Leslie."

Nurse Leslie Thompkins smiles a tad wider.

"Alfred told me I might find you here."

The boy makes no response. Leslie Thompkins whets her lips, and then steps into the room in full. Under one arm, she's holding a book with a red-and-gold cover.

"Listen…I know you're very upset. I understand. Nobody wants these sort of things to happen…"

The boy glares at her doubtfully.

"Well…almost nobody…"

The boy turns away a third time, one finger tracing senseless patterns on his bedsheet.

"Anyway, I thought you might like some company. I brought something to read…I found it upstairs, in the study. My own mother used to read it to me all the time; it's just the thing to cheer a person up on a rainy night…"

The nurse holds up the book. The boy looks at it.

His eyes grow wider than golf balls.

The book is titled, in bold, golden print, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland._

The boy leaps from the bed, and, overcome by a sudden rage, knocks the book from Leslie Thompkins' hands, making her jump and give a short gasp of surprise.

"NO!" the boy screams. "NO! I HATE THAT STORY! IT'S KID STUFF! I DON'T NEED HELP! I DON'T WANT IT! I DON'T WANT ANYBODY…!"

He lowers his maddened gaze, his shoulders quaking…

"Anybody…to…help me…"

He collapses to his knees, sobbing. The doctor kneels down to his level, and, hesitantly, reaches out. He gratefully sinks into her arms, continuing to cry.

"I'm sorry…" he moans.

"Shh…it's all right, Bruce…it's all right…"

_**"Get up, Batsy!"**_

__Batman let out a short cry as something slapped across his face. He rose fast, lunging at whatever hit him, and missing.

"Well, that was a fine 'thanks-for-waking-me.'"

Batman growled in response at the Cheshire Cat, rubbing his sore head. The cat cocked his own head to one side.

"You look unwell…"

"Rough trip," was all Batman said.

The cat smirked.

"I've certainly had more graceful landings," he said.

Batman got to his feet and looked around.

The tram car had crashed through a sheer steel wall, and the doors had opened upon impact, launching he and the Cheshire Cat into the room they currently sat in. An enormous grandfather clock stood before them, its pendulum snapped in half, the glass case opened. Piled inside and around this clock, and, indeed, all over the room, were rusted pieces of clockwork mechanisms and an assortment of twisted bits of scrap metal. Puddles of oily water lay all about, staining Batman's shoes as he approached the clock, gazing up at its cracked face, its hands no longer running.

The clock was set at six o'clock; the hour hand resembled the symbol of mercury.

"What is this place?"

"A junkyard, obviously," Cheshire said. "Apparently whatever the Hatter doesn't need gets sent here.

Something caught Batman's attention. His grim expression became even more bleak.

"Cheshire," he began, softly, "I don't believe the Mad Hatter's the one who's made this mess."

Cheshire raised an eyebrow, and then looked over at what Batman had noticed.

The feline's expression would have matched his comrade's perfectly, were it not for the grin on his face.

A poster was nailed to the wall, beside an older, normal-sized grandfather clock that was propped against the wall. On it was a photograph, depicting two very familiar faces…

"The March Hare and the Dormouse," Batman murmered.

Both of the former "lab-rats" had been significantly changed from their original states: the Hare bore a mechanical arm, with a large, decorative blade replacing his hand and lower arm, similar to an Indian spear. His left leg was mostly mechanical, except for his ankle and foot, while his lower right leg and foot had been replaced with an iron foot and a thick, metal rod encircled by a steel spring. He bore bolts in both ears, one of them also holding a bite mark, and a wore a vest and a white shirt, one sleeve torn off due to the steampunk prosthetic, as well as a monocle in one eye. Strapped to his head was an absurd sort of helmet, which looked more like a joystick in appearance. The Dormouse, meanwhile, had had his long tail replaced by a great, steel chord or cable. A dial, like that of a stuffed clockwork toy, protruded from his back, and his legs had been replaced with a pair of motorized wheels, like the tires of an old-fashioned bicycle, worked by a mechanized axel. He wore a helmet, just as bizarre as March's, in the shape of a silver bell. One of his eyes was red, the other yellow. Both of them had copper wire pieces in place of whiskers.

Above the photo, in bold, red, capitalized letters were the words, **"NEW MANAGEMENT."**

Batman and Cheshire gazed at the poster for several seconds.

"They've taken over?"

"That, Batsy, is obvious."

"Then, if the Hatter is no longer in control, where…?"

A soft, dark, raspy voice from somewhere behind them.

_"Do cats eat bats? Do bats eat cats?"_

Both the bat and the cat turned.

They knew at once who had spoken when they spotted a tall, tattered, bloodstained hat decorated with the pattern of a chessboard and the signs of the zodiac.

"Hello again, Batman," hissed the Mad Hatter.


	14. Chapter 14

Notes: The final lines of this chapter are a quote from _Kingdom Hearts: 358/2 Days._ I do not own the game in any way, shape, or form.

**Chapter 14: To Trust or Not To Trust?**

Batman slowly, carefully approached the Mad Hatter; former milliner and member of the Resistance against the Queen of Hearts, now a mad scientist obsessed with time, whose singular goal had once been to take control of all of Wonderland.

The Hatter kept his unblinking, silver-eyed gaze even with his past enemy as the Dark Knight approached him. The Cheshire Cat, lest his infuriating presence be forgotten, sauntered up as well. When Batman stopped, so did the cat, who sat down on his haunches.

All three eyed each other uneasily.

"You seem to be missing a few more screws than usual, Hatter," Cheshire purred coolly.

Indeed he did; the Hatters head and torso were leaning against the ruins of five Automatons, his arms and legs nowhere to be seen. The empty sockets contained what looked like an assortment of electrical plugs within them, mixed with a number of hooks and wires. The gear in his back had spots of rust on it, and made audible grinding sounds as it turned slowly. His hat was battered and bent, with a hole or two in its crown, dust and oil covering the brim. His (now-sleeveless) straitjacket that he wore like a shirt was rumpled and covered in even more blood and grease than the Caped Crusader could recall. His face and head were in a sore state as well; the tip of his right ear had been cut off, and a line of dried blood connected his right nostril to his chapped upper lip. His already balding head appeared to have been stripped of hair entirely, scabbed, scarred spots marking where it had been clumsily torn away. A large pimple tipped his pointed nose, and his entire face was covered in a thin layer of grime.

He seemed to have aged almost a hundred years since their last encounter…and he hadn't looked very good then, either.

The Hatter snorted softly at the cat's comment; when he spoke, Batman saw he was missing a tooth.

"Missing, indeed," he said. "Still, with things being what they are, I barely miss their missing!"

"I recall leaving you without a head," Batman said. "Not totally in pieces. What's happened?"

Hatter eyed him with an angry glare.

_"You_ should know that better than _I,"_ he snarled, and tossed his head contemptuously to one side. "It's your place after all; I know my place…"

"When did you ever know your place, or how to keep it, for that matter?" hissed the Cheshire Cat, eyes narrowed.

The Hatter smirked.

"Your former tea guests are in charge of your Domain."

Hatter's eyes widened and he faced Batman.

"My…guests? Oh, no…there are no guests," he said, his voice distant, his eyes suddenly cast on the floor. "No tea, either…I'm a poor man…"

Batman raised an eyebrow in Cheshire's direction. The cat made the same expression.

_Even madder than before,_ they thought in chorus. (And I hope you know what "thinking in chorus" means; I don't.)

"What's going on?" Batman asked, addressing the Hatter once more.

The madman shook his head fast, and looked up, his gray eyes as neutral as they could possibly be, and opened his mouth to speak…

"AAAGH!" he screamed the next minute, and Batman winced while the Cheshire Cat covered his sensitive ears; a long, loud, out-of-tune steam whistle – like the whistle of an old steam train – sounded throughout the area, and the ground seemed to shake, junk falling from the pile the Hatter leaned against and banging against his vanquished form.

After what seemed like an hour, but was less than a minute, the sound faded.

"What in God's name was _that?"_ growled the cat.

The Hatter groaned.

"Ohh…_that's_ 'what's going on,'" he replied, his voice dark and his anger barely contained. "And around, and up, and down. Breaks through my ears, goes past my eyes, slips up my nostrils, works down my gullet, and keeps winding through my guts…!"

"My father was fond of trains," Batman muttered. "I've never liked them much."

The Hatter shook his head despondently, his stovepipe hat threatening to fall.

"You won't like this one at all," he said in a somber tone. "Nothing like when Mock Turtle was in charge of the Looking-Glass Line…"

"The what?"

Hatter rolled his eyes.

"You don't read much, do you?"

"If you remember," Cheshire purred, "In the second account Carroll wrote of our world, Alice took a train from the third square of the Pale Realm to the fourth by railway; it was a much larger region then."

"Ah."

"Well…those days are over," Hatter said, eyeing the ceiling with a deep glare, as if it was to blame for his current state. "This new railroad's a bloody shambles. The stink is ferocious," he went on, virtually spitting out the words as he continued, "The light? Blinding! The noise? Hellacious! The-"

"Um…we get it, Hatter," Cheshire hastily interrupted. "A REALLY bad train."

The Hatter sighed.

"The world is upside-down…even more so than usual!" he moaned dismally. "Inmates are running the asylum…no offense," he then said, glancing at Batman, "and, worst of all…I'm left tea-less!"

"Tragic," Batman said sarcastically. "If I help you, will you help me?"

Hatter nodded eagerly, as if the battles of the past never existed.

"Cross my heart, Mr. Wayne…if I had one. Find my limbs, and return them to me. It's high time I reclaimed my laboratories."

"Where can I get them?"

"March and Dormy 'borrowed' them for some machines elsewhere in my Domain," said the Hatter, emphasizing the word "my" with an angry tone. "You'll find my arms in Dormy's section of the factory, Smelling and Regurgitating…"

"Smelling and _what?"_

Hatter sniffed.

"No accounting for taste," he muttered, and then said, out loud, "'Smelling and Regurgitating; it's wear the metal is melted down to be shipped off to Marchy's section, Cranking Up and Pressing Down, which is where the metal is pressed into molds. All this is sent to the third section, Assemblage for Destruction…"

"Where the pieces are put together."

"Correct. The train is their newest project, but I have no idea what it's for; they have yet to run it outside the Domain, constantly testing it. I would execute caution; both of my 'friends'' respective sections are fraught with Eyepots."

"Eyepots?"

"Another new Automaton," Cheshire clarified, somewhat impatiently. "Think of it as a sort of cyborganic tank."

"Once you have recovered my limbs, toss them into the garbage chute you'll find in both sections. Come back here afterwards."

The Hatter laughed abruptly, and went on, "Be on your way now! There's a good Bat-boy…heh! Best way out is through that clock."

He nodded towards the clock beside the poster on the opposite wall. Batman paused…

"Well?" Hatter snapped, impatiently. "What are you waiting for? We're running out of time, you know!"

"Where's Alice?"

Hatter stared…not that he had much choice, without eyelids.

"Wh-What?"

"Where. Is. Alice?"

Hatter hung his head.

"I don't know," he said simply. "After the March Hare and Dormy took their revenge upon me, and overthrew me, taking the Domain as their own, they tore me apart and left me here. A-Alice was asleep then; it happened at night. She stayed with me after…you know…"

There was silence. The Hatter finally looked up again. His eyes glinted with a deadly fire.

"Expect no thanks until I am completely reconstructed," he said in a dangerous voice. "I haven't forgotten our last meeting, Batman; it was not a pleasant encounter. There will never be room for _you_ at tea. Go."

The Hatter hung his head again, and fell silent.

He had, quickly and quietly, fallen asleep.

Cheshire and Batman looked at each other, then at the exhausted Hatter, and turned away, walking up to the clock. Batman opened the clock's door…which revealed a dark passage.

He paused, looking over his shoulder at what was left of the Hatter.

"Batsy?"

"We've both made perfectly clear that we are still enemies. How can I trust him?"

"Wonderland is in danger, Batsy; we'll need all the allies we can get."

Both paused. Cheshire's grin seemed more malevolent than usual.

"To trust, or not to trust?" he queried. "I trust you'll decide."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: It Takes a Thief…**

Back in the Batcave, Nightwing, Robin, and Alfred Pennyworth all gazed up at the screen of the great Batcomputer. Behind them, on an operating table, was the body of the "Monster Man" that had attacked the pair of junior vigilantes.

Robin's un-gloved fingers darted across the keys of the wide control board.

"Weird…"

"What is it?" asked Nightwing.

"There's some sort of chemical in his blood…not anything I've seen before."

"That would explain how he transformed into that…thing. Anything else?"

"Yeah…I've run a file check on this kid. There's nothing."

"What do you mean 'nothing?'"

"Exactly that; even Strange had more info than this. There's no name, no physical match, no background, no age…nothing."

"How can that be?"

"Well, either this kid's made from laboratory slop, or someone erased all files on his life."

All three glanced back at the deceased boy.

"The latter seems more likely," Tim added quietly.

"Despicable," Alfred muttered. "Even back in the war days, I can remember no one who would do such horrendous things to a child. No one."

"What else?"

"Well…just one more thing…"

Robin paused.

"Yes?"

"Well…whoever and whatever this kid is, he probably isn't the only one."

Dick Grayson and the butler stared.

"Come again, Master Tim?"

"The chemical contains very particular compounds; you don't find stuff like this just anywhere. And when you do find them, you find them _en masse."_

"So whoever's using this is using it for 'mass production?'"

"Yes. Whoever and whatever turned that kid into a…whatever, they've done it to others as well."

"How many could a person make?" asked Alfred.

"Of these Monster Men? I'd say at least ten."

"Only ten, sir?"

Robin and Nightwing both looked at Alfred blandly, eyebrows raised.

"We DID tell you what that thing was capable of, right?" said Nightwing.

Alfred paused and nodded slowly.

"So ten would be bad?"

"Very bad. These things are being controlled by someone, most likely whoever made them. And they aren't going to risk these creatures giving them away."

"Is that why…?"

Nightwing trailed off. Robin nodded sadly.

"Yeah. Kid had some sort of self-destruct compound set in him; if one of these things falls unconscious, they're as good as dead. It keeps them from talking is my guess."

"Who could have access to this stuff?"

"Well, Dr. Milo, Man-Bat, and the Scarecrow seem like good choices…"

"But…?"

"But 'Monster Men' aren't Scarecrow's style; he specializes in hallucinogens, not this stuff. Langstrom sees his alter-ego as a curse; I doubt he'd inflict this harm on anyone. And Milo's been in Arkham ever since…"

A familiar pair of long, brown, furry ears flashed into everyone's mind.

"So all of our key suspects are out?"

"Pretty much."

Nightwing groaned.

"Great; first Batman vanishes, and now we have to deal with these Frankenstein-wannabes."

Robin nodded in agreement.

"You know, sirs," Alfred began thoughtfully, "if these creature's are being ordered to steal and kill by others, then perhaps the person controlling them is a thief themselves."

"Oh, you think?" Nightwing grumbled, hands at his waist.

"Well…just a thought, but the trite saying 'it takes a thief to catch a thief' does hold some merit. And there is one very particular thief here in Gotham City who might be glad to help find Master Bruce…"

Robin and Nightwing's eyes widened. They looked at each other, and then Alfred, smiling.

"Alfred?" Nightwing breathed. "You're a genius."

Alfred shrugged.

"I try, sir."


	16. Chapter 16

Notes: New Track added: Track 13 (the unlucky number!); this is better than saying who/what the track is for…doesn't the spoil the surprise!

**Chapter 16: Of Mice and Metal**

The heavy iron-wrought doors of the Smelling and Regurgitating section of the Mad Hatter's Domain swung open, forced to disclose their secrets by the Dark Knight.

Batman glanced quickly around at his surroundings; a vast lake of molten metal, red and orange and yellow in tone, surrounded him. A series of metal platforms wove around and across the lava-like lake, providing footing. Cauldrons of the melted steel and iron moved on tracks across the ceiling, dumping their contents into the lake before vanishing into another portion of the factory to be refilled, moving in an elliptical pattern. A series of pipes removed the red-hot metal, presumably taking it to the Cranking Up and Pressing Down section, and prevented the molten steel from overflowing onto the platforms.

Batman flattened against a wall as he heard something approach. When the clattering footsteps ended, he cautiously looked around the corner.

What looked like a giant, brass teapot, with an endless amount of steam emanating from its spout, was before him. The teapot-thing moved around on four spidery metal legs, tipped with sharpened points, and on one of its sides was a large, red window, painted with a long, black, vertical slit to look like a glass eye.

The red tint and black slit made it hard to tell, but Batman could vaguely see the outline of what he guessed was a Gnome inside the window.

_So, THAT'S an Eyepot…_

The Eyepot swiveled its "head" around, looking about, trying to figure out where the strange, black figure it had spotted went, but gave up after a minute or two, and scuttled off to another area of the Smelling and Regurgitating section.

"Whoever said there's nothing like a spot of tea for the nerves never had REAL tea," purred the Cheshire Cat, swirling into view.

"How do I get rid of them?"

"As blood is thicker than water, so is the Eyepot's armor thicker than your costume; the only way to eliminate these troublesome scouts is to break through their signature 'eye.'"

"The window?"

"Precisely; all the controls lie right within it. Hit the window, the controls are destroyed…"

"And the Eyepot cannot function."

Cheshire nodded…then gasped sharply and winced as a grating, screeching noise surrounded them; someone had just switched on a microphone.

_"A Good Worker,"_ said a familiar, squeaky voice over the intercom system, _"is a live worker! Free to live…and work. A Bad Worker, is a DEAD worker. Don't be a Bad Worker! Bad Workers are slaves…and dead!"_

The voice let out a high-pitched, dark giggled, and then finished with, _"On that note, I have an announcement: due to the commission-in-progress demanded by our benefactor, payday for Good Workers has been postponed indefinitely. Payday for Bad Workers will remain CANCELLED!"_

The intercom switched off.

The cat and Batman looked at each other.

"The Dormouse?"

"Apparently he's been ingesting too much tea, or he wouldn't be awake."

"Of course I have!"

The voice of the Dormouse attracted the two's attention. They looked up, where a strange sort of elevator, like a trolley on a rope, descended from the ceiling. The Dormouse, in a green-and-white checked vest, descended from the ceiling. The dial in his back turned slowly about, and his copper whiskers twitched as he eyed the Cheshire Cat and the Caped Crusader with a lurid smile.

"Good morning!" he said, directing his attention to Batman. "So good to see you! Have you seen the Hatter yet?"

"When we last met, he had you on a dissecting table, and your legs were made of metal pieces, not wheels."

"Things have changed since then," Dormy said with a mad giggle. "The dial in my back keeps me awake! I'll never shut my eyes to the truth again! Never!"

"Why are you doing this?"

The rodent laughed, his cable-tail whipping about in delight.

"Such a trite question!" he chuckled. "If you mean taking over Hatter's Domain, I'm doing it for…oh, what was that word?...ah, yes: REVENGE!"

Here the Dormouse suddenly began to scream in fury, shaking his small, furry fists.

"Keeping us sedated, so he could perform his sick, twisted experiments! Fraternizing with the Queen, and electrifying me every waking moment…literally! Depriving us of tea, worst of all! That…_fiend_ deserved this!"

"On that we're almost agreed."

Dormy giggled.

"Nevertheless," he squeaked, "your presence here is unwelcome. We have a mission to complete, and you are an intolerable annoyance!"

Here the Dormouse reached for a lever on the control panel before him.

"Some like it hot, but no one likes it THIS hot!"

Laughing, the Dormouse pulled the lever. One of the cauldrons of molten metal tipped over, spilling its contents down upon Batman and Cheshire.

"Watch it!" hissed the cat, and vanished.

Batman leaped out of the way of the rain of melted steel…right into the path of a vigilant Eyepot.

"DESTROY HIM!" screamed the Dormouse.

The Eyepot reared up on two legs, the other two rising up high, and coming down again with remarkable speed. Batman jumped away, avoiding the deadly, sharpened points.

The steaming spout of the Eyepot whistled, and it set itself on its side, aiming the spout at its opponent. What appeared to be a small dish flew out. Batman fell to his side, expecting anything but harmless porcelain…

BAAMM!

The dish exploded upon impact with the platforms, sending one sinking into the molten sea. With another whistle, it skittered quickly towards Batman.

Batman, still half on the floor, whipped a flash-bang capsule from his belt, and flung it at the Eyepot. The creature stopped and backed away, shaking its "head" fast, as the blinding flash eliminated its foe from sight. Batman then took a bat-o-rang out and tossed it at the creature's window-eye.

The blade shattered the Eyepot's eye, and a shower of sparks flew from what was there. It fell to the floor, utterly destroyed.

The Dormouse pulled on a chord, hanging from the roof of his lift, and then pushed a button. The metal platforms beneath Batman's feet began to sink. He jumped from the platforms by the entrance to another set to his left. There were two Eyepots here, and they charged at him, whistling like angry birds as they moved.

Batman ducked a claw-swipe from one, and stabbed a bat-o-rang into the window of the second. As it fell, he pulled the blade out, and stabbed it into the "eye" of the first.

It was at that moment he looked up…and saw them.

While most of the cauldrons on the ceiling were suspended by hooks and chains, one, he noticed, was held by Hatter's arms, attached to a pair of wheels that made them work, tipping the cauldron and pouring its contents into the lake.

"That's right, Bat-breath!" crowed the Dormouse, noticing Batman's line of sight. "I've got the arms you need…well, strictly speaking, the Mad Hatter needs them. Of course, it really doesn't matter, seeing as I'm about to boil you like a lobster!"

Laughing, the Dormouse pulled the chord again, but did not press the button. Almost as if out of nowhere, three more Eyepots appeared. Two of them swung their clawed legs at Batman, but he managed to avoid them…just. The third fired a dish-bomb at him. Batman swung off his cape – but kept his cowl – and caught the dish-bomb in it before it could hit the ground and explode. He spun around, and released the bomb from his cape. The blast eliminated all three Eyepots, destroying their windows completely, although their armor was barely singed and carried only a few large dents. With a slight flair, the Dark Knight set his cape about his neck once more.

Above him, the Dormouse seethed in rage, seeing his forces felled like mere dominoes. He slammed his fist on a bright green button.

Batman watched in surprise as, with a great, heaving, groaning sound, all the platforms, save the one he stood on, vanished from sight, sinking into the metal lake.

"Take that, then!" squeaked the Dormouse, crossing his arms smugly, red-and-yellow eyes narrowed while his mouth widened in a smirk. "'The path less travelled' is now impossible to navigate."

Batman reached for his grappling line…but the Dormouse, seeing what he was up to, flipped a switch, and his lift moved farther away…out of the line's reach. He laughed triumphantly.

"You can't reach me!" he sing-songed. "No, not at all!"

At that moment, an Eyepot came up from behind Batman, and, before the Caped Crusader could react, slammed him to the floor with its pointed legs. Three more soon came over, surrounding him, pinning his legs and arms to the ground, lest he try to destroy them…and aimed their spouts at his face.

The Dormouse sneered.

"Now, tell me, Batman…one lump or two?"

The Dormouse giggled at his own joke, eliciting a deep glare from Batman…

_"Three blind mice, three blind mice…"_

A new voice broke into the ears of the Dormouse and Batman, and something slammed into the Eyepots, making all of them turn around.

On the ground was a small, stuffed toy, resembling the White Rabbit himself, holding a large, ticking clock. The Eyepots – minus the first – approached it cautiously.

The Dormouse, however, knew that "toy" from anywhere.

"No!" he called, waving his paws frantically. "Don't touch it, you fools! DON'T YOU-!"

_"See how they run, see how they run…"_

WHAMB!

The toy blew apart, clockwork pieces flying everywhere, shattering the Eyepots' eyes. Distracted from its pray, the remaining Eyepot stupidly moved away from Batman…and had its window shattered by a black-gloved fist.

Batman stood, trying to find the one who had saved him.

The Dormouse growled, reaching for another button…

With a creaking, shuddering sound, the (now-empty) cauldron held by the Hatter's arms fell from the ceiling, heading straight towards Batman, who had no time to…

WHOOMP!

Something slammed into the cauldron, sending it into the lake of molten steel.

_"They all ran after the farmer's wife…"_

The something flipped in the air, and what appeared to be a handful of metal jacks flew at a pair of Eyepots that stood near the "dock" by the door. The spikes of the jacks stuck into the windows, and the Eyepots fell, unable to get a shot out. The something landed on the cable that held up the Dormouse's lift.

_"She cut off their tails with a carving knife…"_

With a graceful flip, the something jumped down into the lift itself. Something long and sharp and metallic was in its hand…

_"Did you ever see such a sight in your life, as three blind mice?"_

"YOU!" the Dormouse screamed. "How did you…?"

"As my doctor once said," the something hissed, "knowledge is power, Dormy."

The Dormouse snarled and rattled toward the something. It jumped away – the lift was rather wide on the interior – and slammed the rodent's face into his control panel.

The platforms that had sunk rose again, partially covered in molten steel, which rolled off and fell into the lake below.

"NO!"

"It seems I've _risen _to the occasion," said the something dryly, and leveled the long, sharp blade in its hand at the Dormouse, who simply glared at it.

"A temporary setback," he snarled. "A minor hindrance. A trivial impediment, even! Seeing as you can't be civil, I'll just move along…"

Here the Dormouse lunged, and pushed the something off the lift. It backflipped in midair, and flung what appeared to be another handful of jacks. It landed, like a cat, on its feet on a platform below. The jacks hit the lift, but missed Dormy, who giggled.

"I'll deal with you all later," he said menacingly. "You'll never stop our grand plan!"

The Dormouse pulled a lever, and the lift rose up, out of sight.

Batman looked up at the vanishing lift. The Cheshire Cat reappeared, seated at his right, also looking up at the escaping Dormouse.

"Well, that's a shame…I could have used some breakfast…"

"It seems I got here just in time, as I'm sure Rabbit would say," said the something, approaching the two.

Batman looked at the one who had assisted him…

And could not look away.

She may have cut her hair short…she may have replaced her organic left arm with a mechanical prosthetic…she may have worn a different set of clothes than he thought, including a familiar chessboard-and-zodiac top hat…

But the second he looked into those wide, emerald eyes, a familiar portrait flashed in his mind, and he knew she could be no one else.

The cat smirked, and replied to her: "Indeed it does…_Alice."_


	17. Chapter 17

Notes: Track 33 added to Soundtrack on profile. Also, I'm not too proud of how the new character (the title should tell you who) who appears in this chapter came out…if anyone has any suggestions on how to better her personality, I'll be only too glad to take them.

**Chapter 17: Catscratch**

A crescent moon smiled down upon Selina Kyle: socialite, animal rights activist…expert jewel thief…

One of the few people to know the secret of Bruce Wayne…

One of several people to have slept with him…

As Catwoman, she lived out a nursery rhyme: "When she was good, she was very, very good…but when she was bad, she was horrid."

Atop the rooftop of the Gotham Museum of Art, Catwoman was so pleased she could purr. Her dark purple catsuit, complete with boots and gloves and a belt, helped her blend into the shadows. The cats-eye lens night vision goggles that were placed over the eyeholes of her cat-eared mask disguised her eyes, which were just as green as the goggles' lenses. A long, leather bullwhip was wrapped about her waist, tucked into her belt, part of it trailing down, like a tail. She grinned like a Cheshire Cat, her black-painted lips splitting wide.

Her padded boots helped her move silently across the roof. Carefully, she crept up to the trapdoor on the roof, used for personnel; she had stolen the keys and a security layout of the museum a week ago. Quietly, she unlatched the door…there was no one around to see her that she knew of, but Bruce had a habit of being quiet as mouse…

A phrase she never understood; whoever made that simile up clearly wasn't her own beloved cat, Hecate…

She climbed down the dark stairway beneath the door, her goggles allowing her perfect vision. She came to a catwalk that lay over the museum.

Down below her, she spotted her target: locked inside a glass case were the famous Snowdrop Diamonds, named for their stark, frosted coloration, on loan from the Duchess of Villikens. They were worth almost three million dollars.

Catwoman grinned even wider.

"Purr-fect…"

Tossing down a loop of rope she had in her belt, she tied one end to the catwalk, and stealthily clambered down. When she got close to the floor, she looked around quickly.

No guards.

Slowly, silently, she pulled a small spray gun from her belt, and aimed it just below her.

A grayish mist spread across the floor of the museum…revealing a web of dull red laser alarms.

The spray would only remain for a few short minutes; timing was everything.

Catwoman dropped to the floor, her legs spread so that they did not touch a single laser. She backflipped over a few more, and then somersaulted onto her feet over the next one. The next few were placed higher up; she ducked down, crawling on her belly across the floor, making no sound whatsoever. With a flying leap, she avoided the final few…

And stood before the case of diamonds.

There was a heat-sensitive alarm set on the case; a person with a very high fever could stand near it and risk it going off.

Not that she could think of anyone who would…even Bruce wasn't that stupid…

Usually…

Shaking her head, she flicked her wrists in a single, practiced, fast motion. Five claw-like glass cutters extended from the fingertips of her gloves. Carefully, she placed one hand against the glass, and turned her hand in a circular motion, cutting a hole in the glass…

No alarm yet.

Tense with excitement, heart pounding, she reached for her belt again, this time pulling out two small, blue capsules. She tossed them into the case, and they expanded and, finally, broke apart, spreading a cold mist through the case…and freezing the alarm solid.

With a smirk, Catwoman reached through the hole in the case…the alarm didn't go off…

"Very smart, Selina."

Catwoman froze. She bit her lip, eyes narrowed behind her mask, and turned around fast, like a scalded kitten.

She sneered.

"Well," she hissed, "if it isn't Bird-boys one and two. Shouldn't you be in your roost, or chasing down Scarecrow and the Mad Hatter?"

Robin shrugged.

"We spared a moment for you."

Catwoman glared at him in response.

"Where's Bruce?" she snarled.

"He's why we're here," Nightwing said. "We just want to talk, Cat…"

"About what? How much I'll be missed in a cell at Blackgate? Don't think so."

"Cat, please, we-"

Dick Grayson never got another word out.

Catwoman spun on her heels, and flung a handful of short, but deadly, throwing knives at the duo, who ducked, as she expected they would, and cartwheeled over to her rope. Speedily, she ascended the rope, Robin and Nightwing right behind her. When she got up to the catwalk, she slashed at the rope with her diamond-edged claws, and sprinted off, dashing up the stairs, hearing them hit the museum floor.

As she opened the trapdoor and got back to the roof, thinking she was home free, a voice from behind her said, "Please, Cat, don't make this any harder."

With a growl, the Feline Femme Fatale launched a spinning-heel kick at Nightwing, which as easily blocked, and followed it up with a second forward kick, which was blocked. She flipped, her boot connecting with Grayson's chin, and tried to make a break for it. She ran to the edge of the roof, and jumped.

Quickly unwinding her bullwhip, she lashed it out, and it wrapped around a light on the building's edifice. She swung safely to the ground. Quick as a flash, bullwhip in hand, she ran down the alley on the side of the building. A black motorcycle with the image of a roaring panther on the front stood propped against the building…

A flash of red, green, and yellow knocked her to the ground.

She was up on her feet in a flash, and swung her arm around in a haymaker…which failed.

"Hey, Cat…hold it…!"

Catwoman didn't listen; she lashed out a snap-kick at Robin, sending him to the floor. She turned, and jumped on her motorcycle…

It wouldn't start.

Why wouldn't it start?

"Ahem!"

Selina Kyle looked up, to see Nightwing, smirking gently…

And holding a spark plug in his hand.

She groaned, and slammed her head against the handles of her bike.

"All right," she said in a voice that was the human equivalent of a meow, "I give up."

Nightwing smiled wider, and helped Robin to his feet.

"You should learn to play nicer when around birds, Selina."

Catwoman scowled at him half-heartedly.

"I don't have time for pleasantries; it took me a week to figure out how to steal the plans for the museum, and another week to figure out how to steal those diamonds. Add in the month it took before to be able to get a good look at the museum area, and the money it cost to convince Mr. Freeze to sell me those freezing capsules…"

She sighed.

"It seems I'm losing my touch."

Nightwing sighed in the same manner.

"Look," he said, "as much as I'd love to report you to the police and have them throw away the key, we need your help."

Catwoman raised an eyebrow, barely visible behind her goggles.

"My help?" she purred. "With what?"

Nightwing's expression became dead serious.

"It's Bruce. He's missing."

Catwoman stared.

"Missing?"

Tim and Dick nodded at the same time.

"What do you mean missing?"

"We mean just that," Robin said. "He's gone…and we don't know how, where, when, or why, let alone who might have had something to do with it."

Catwoman got off her motorcycle.

"I'd think you'd be able to find him yourselves, though," she said, coolly. "After all, you…"

"Don't hand us that," Nightwing frowned. "We all know about you two and your…_relationship."_

Kyle said nothing.

"He's gone, and, unless you want the police to find out who stole the museum plans a week ago, you'll help us."

Catwoman glared.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

The two stared at each other for a long time.

Catwoman exhaled deeply.

"You know," she purred, "my work would be ever so much easier if I didn't have a conscience…"


	18. Chapter 18

Notes: For those who don't already know, Alice's appearance in here is based on the Hattress DLC from _Madness Returns._ I am giving her a mixture of weapons from both games. Now that we've established this, it is high time we go on with...

**Chapter 18: Go Ask Alice...**

Batman took in the appearance of the young woman before him: she wore knee-high, black leather boots, and olive-toned leggings in place of the striped stockings from the painting Batman had seen of her when he had last visited the Mad Hatter's Domain. She wore a white sweater with long sleeves, and matching kid gloves, and a ragged skirt of the same color, tied with a golden belt that was fastened with a buckle in the shape of a gear. A bloodstained apron hung over her skirt, equally tattered, and had deep pockets, with bulged from their contents. While her right arm was perfectly organic, the skin showing in the small gap between her sleeve and her gloved hand, her left arm had been replaced with a mechanical prosthetic that looked to be made of brass. The sleeve on this size had been haphazardly ripped away halfway up, revealing the arm from the elbow down; the rest was partially visible when her arm rose. She had leather straps on her right arm and both legs, fastened with silver buckles that matched the buckles of her boots. About her slender, creamy neck was a necklace with a bronze pendant in the shape of the Greek symbol of Omega. Her already pink lips were made even more luscious by the bright pink lipstick she wore, and black eyeliner. It seemed the Hatter's remark about her hair had been taken to heart: she had cut it, not too professionally, to being a few inches above her shoulders. Upon her head was a shorter version of her beloved Hatter's trademark hat, chessboard-zodiac pattern and all.

Her large, bright eyes were a deep emerald color, like two ellipses of green glass, and allowed every emotion humanly possible to shine forth, a trait that had remarkably been captured in the portrait Batman had seen in the Hatter's personal chambers not so long ago.

In one hand, she carried a long, sharp, decorative chef's knife, the flat of the blade enscribed with images of twisting grapevines.

She smiled, revealing perfect teeth.

"Hello, Cat," she said. "Still lurking about?"

"When have I not, Alice dear?"

Alice chuckled, and turned toward Batman, she raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Bruce Wayne?"

Batman nodded, but said nothing. Alice grinned, and held out her robotic arm.

"Alice Liddell, or Hattress. Take your pick."

Batman paused, and held out his own hand.

"Batman."

The Hattress smirked.

"Clearly," she said. "You're the one who stopped my Hatter from ruining Wonderland, right?"

Batman eyed her uncertainly.

"I am."

Alice sighed and nodded.

"Good," she said. "He may not think much of you, but I do. He was really quite...quite horrible back then."

Here her eyes suddenly seemed to lose any sense of emotion, and she lowered her gaze to the floor.

_"Three Wise Men of Gotham went to Sea in a bowl...and if the bowl had been stronger, my story would have been longer..."_

She shook her head fast, and her eyes returned to their usual, vivid state. She smiled again.

"My apologies," she said quickly. "I rhyme, at times."

Batman nodded.

"It's not a surprising habit, trust me."

Alice said nothing.

"I suggest," said the Cheshire Cat, breaking in, "we save further introductions till later; we still have a Hare to see."

Alice grinned darkly in the cat's direction.

_"One, two, three, four, five! Once I caught a Hare alive..."_

She laughed.

"Let's get moving," she said, and, turning on her heel and sticking her blade into a sheath that hung from her belt, she headed to the back of the Smelling and Regurgitating section. Batman and Cheshire followed as she exited through the back.

They came to a low-ceilinged hall, with only a few electric lightbulbs lighting the pathway.

"The quickest way to Cranking Up and Pressing Down is through this hall," said the Hattress, and, stooped slightly, began to move down the hall.

"I think I'll take my own shortcut," said Cheshire, and swirled out of view.

Batman and Alice rolled their eyes simultaneously. She smiled at Batman.

"Well, looks like we have some time alone," she said, and continued on her way.

The Dark Knight followed, silent.

"Ms. Liddell..."

"Alice, please. Or Hattress."

"...Hattress, may I ask you a few questions?"

"You _are_ a detective, aren't you? I'd think an interrogation would be right up your alley."

"Yes...well, my first question is, where have you been?"

_"Up in the Green Orchard, there is a Green Tree, with the finest of apples that you ever did see..."_

"The Hatter said that you had been sleeping, somewhere in the Domain, when the Hare and the Dormouse took over the place."

"Yes, well, the sound of your beloved's screaming tends to wake one up," Alice said flatly, not sounding at all aggrieved as she shared this knowledge.

Aggravated, if nothing else.

"So you escaped?"

"Sort of," said Alice, and held up her mechanical arm in emphasis. "I was spotted by the Madcaps in the Crockery, and one of them caught me with a knife. The wound got infected, and so, using a few clockwork bits I had with me at the time, I managed to reconstruct a proper limb. This isn't the original though; I've had to replace it a few times for...various reasons. Which I would rather not go into, thank you."

"Understood."

A pause, as they travelled in silence. A low, dull, thudding sound was audible up ahead.

"One other thing: your 'toys.'"

"What of them?"

"They...interest me."

Alice stopped and turned toward him.

"Would you like to see them?"

"It would probably help."

Alice smirked, and dug into her apron. She pulled out first a couple of metal jacks and a small, red rubber ball.

_"If it's my keen invention you'd like to destroy, I'll withstand your best shot; I've got the right toy_,_"_ Alice rhymed. "I've quite a collection of tools, from various parts of Wonderland; the Cat once told me, 'always collect what's useful; reject only your ignorance, and you may survive.'"

"These are?"

"Jacks O'Death. I can either throw them as a handful to pierce my opponents, or use the ball to make them chase an enemy; as they bounce up at them, they inflict pain."

She replaced the ball and jacks, and took out a pair of black dice with red dots.

"Demon Dice," she said. "A word of caution: they lack loyalty, and the fiends they contain will not hesitate to attack the person that throws them. The number rolled will either cause the dice to act as flamethrowers, give the enemy a nasty electric shock, or spray their target with a freezing mist."

"Very handy."

"Next," said Alice, pulling the stuffed rabbit from her pockets, "Is this Clockwork Bomb; handy for clearing obstacles, as well as for causing a foe grief."

Alice replaced the grenade, and pulled out what looked like a toy hobby horse, the size of a ballpoint pen. One side of it was painted white, the other side deepest ebony.

"Don't be fooled by its current weight," Alice said. "At my command, this metal Hobby Horse will expand to a much larger size. A riddle: when is a toy horse like a billy club?"

"Answer?"

"Whenever you want it to be!" Alice said, giggling in a manner that unnerved the Caped Crusader slightly, and put the horse back.

"And your...dagger?"

Alice smiled wickedly, and unsheathed her chef's knife.

_"They taunt me about the Burning as if I were to blame...I rid them from my misery with the eloquence of my blade._ This is the Vorpal Blade, my most trusted weapon; if thrown, it will always return to its owner: me. However, it is better suited for fighting up close and personal...which is usually how I like it."

Batman raised an eyebrow, mind focused on something the (apparently) disturbed lady had said.

"'The Burning?'"

Alice frowned, and her eyes grew sad and dark.

"I...I believe that is best explained at another time," she said quietly, and replaced her weapon, straightened her hat, and continued on her way.

Batman said nothing, and followed.

But a he thought a good amount.

_Alice: darkly enchanting, clearly a bit bloodthirsty, and possibly mildly schizophrenic. The Mad Hatter: deformed, delusional, and deplorably devilish. These two practically complete each other..._

The dull, thudding sound grew louder now, until it was a great clanking, like the stamping of a hundred armored feet.

Alice reached a small door, and opened it.

Batman followed her inside.

They were now inside another section of the factory in the Hatter's Domain; Batman could see a great number of enormous stamping-pressers everywhere, stamping against tubs of liquid metal, cooling it, and stamping it with the image of a top hat with a clock set in its center: apparently the brand of the Domain. Everything was lit with dull, orange light, caused by the strange lamps that hung from the ceiling.

Batman heard a weak, squawking sound, and looked above him.

Everywhere, high up on the walls, he could see what appeared to be Dodo birds set in giant hamster wheels. Wires and metal tubing connected these wheels to the pressing machines throughout the area. They had been plucked of their feathers, and were covered in dried blood, and – much to the Dark Knight's disgust – had screws bored into their eye sockets, which connected them to the wheels via rods; they had no choice but to keep running.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that the Cranking Up and Pressing Down section's machines were powered by the movement of these unfortunate fowl.

"A dodo once put me in a neverending, circular race," Alice said softly, apparently not disturbed in the least. "Now it seems he and his kin must race in a neverending circle themselves."

Batman was unable to reply, for a new voice broke into their heads.

"An interesting comparison, _Hattress."_

Both looked at each other, and then turned around.

They knew that voice all too well.

And, sure enough, on a lift – not unlike the Dormouse's – hanging above them, long ears, red flannel vest, bladed arm, monocle and all, stood...

"The March Hare," snarled Alice, a hand on the hilt of her Vorpal Blade. _"Six, seven, eight, nine, ten! I won't let you go again."_


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Mad as a March Hare**

The March Hare glared down at the Hattress and Batman, one eye magnified by his monocle. His copper whiskers twitched faintly, as did his ears, although the bolts that were pierced through them made them droop slightly. He growled angrily, straightening his black bow tie, and adjusting the joystick-esque helmet on his head; he clearly was not in a good mood.

"As if keeping these blasted birds running wasn't enough of a problem," he snarled, "now I have to deal with you two meddlers!"

"Make that three," purred the Cheshire Cat, appearing between Alice and Batman.

"Not long ago, I saved your world, and, by extension, you," Batman hissed, but doubted his words would have little effect; he was more than used to treachery and hypocrisy.

The March Hare's eyes softened only a little.

"Indeed, Mr. Wayne," he said. "On that we are agreed; Dormy and I have no quarrel with any of you…but the Mad Hatter had to pay!"

"And what of _them?"_ Alice broke in, waving a hand at the naked, eyeless Dodos around them. "What of these poor birds?"

March sneered.

"The Gnomes have retreated to other regions, regions we cannot reach. The Ruin are helpful, but our commissioner would not allow us to-"

"YOU control the Ruin?"

The March Hare laughed nastily.

"Hardly! The Dollmaker is our benefactor! He controls the Ruin!"

"The Dollmaker?"

"Who is he?" quizzed Cheshire.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" chuckled the Hare. "Listen: I don't want a bloody mess on my hands…er…_hand_ if I can help it, so I give you fair warning: cease and desist, leave the Domain, and let our Train run its schedule as prepared. Or else…"

Here March smirked and placed his gloved paw on a lever on his control panel.

Batman glared.

"We are not leaving."

And that was simply that.

The March Hare glowered at them fiercely.

"Then prepare to feel like a rocking-horsefly that's been caught under a rancher's boot!"

March pulled the lever.

The hamster wheels that the Dodos worked sped up. To keep their legs from ripping off, the Dodos ran faster as a result.

With the surge of "Dodo-Horsepower" came a surge of electricity. The pressers sped their work up, bashing at the metal plates they worked on tirelessly. With a grin, March pulled a second lever, and the assembly line that the stampers worked on vanished into the factory floor.

The pressers continued to drop and rise, stamping into the floor itself.

The factory had become a death maze.

The March Hare laughed.

"Let's see you all get through this! Ha HA!"

Batman looked down one of the factory halls. He tapped the Cheshire Cat on the ear. The feline glared at him for a moment, and then looked off in the same direction.

Behind a row of heavy pressers, they noticed a lever in the floor.

On it was printed "Hall-Stop 1."

The cat smirked.

"I'll take care of it," he said simply.

The cat swirled away, and reappeared at the end of the hall. Using his forepaws like hands, he pulled the lever down.

With a shuddering groan, the first hall of pressers stopped their work, and retreated up into the ceiling.

The Hare stared, and then scowled, and cursed under his breath. The cat reappeared at Batman's side.

"Very clever of you," snarled the March Hare. "But I'll see to it you don't have it so easy the rest of the way!"

The Hare pulled the lever that controlled the wheels. The Dodos ran even faster, the stamping of the remaining pressers growing ever louder.

"Faster, my fine _fettered_ friends! Don't stop now!"

"Advice?" Alice whispered, turning to the Cheshire Cat.

The cat idly licked a paw.

"I'd say the solution to this dilemna is elementary," he purred. "Find the other levers, and stop the machines. The arms from the Dormouse's section have already been sent to the junkyard."

"You saw to that, I trust?"

"Naturally. Annhilate what threatens to destroy you; put an end to this generator of destruction and catch that demented Hare…if you can. I'll see you later on."

And the cat vanished.

"Wretched cat," Alice muttered. "Does one useful thing, and then…"

"I know," Batman agreed. "Never mind him. Do you see the Hatter's legs anywhere?"

The two looked around.

"Up there!" the Hattress said after a while.

High, high up…far out of reach…set in a hamster wheel similar to the ones of the Dodos…were a pair of legs, still connected to the waist, bearing black pants and shoes with spats. They were connected to a rod and a series of springs and cogs, which kept them moving as the wheel turned.

"The more energy the Dodos and those legs create," Batman murmered, "the faster the machines work. All energy is spent…"

"Your point?"

"The Dodos clearly cannot stop moving; we must tire out the machines."

Without another crossword, the pair sprinted down the hall.

As they turned a corner, an Eyepot was ready to greet them. It whistled and fired a dish-bomb at them. The two ducked fast, and the dish blew up against the wall.

"_Polly, put the kettle on. Polly, put the kettle on. Polly, put the kettle on. Let's all have tea,"_ sang Alice, and tossed a handful of her Jacks at the Eyepot. They stuck in the glass "eye," and the Automaton tank fell easily.

Behind the Eyepot was another hall of pressing machines. The hall moved to the right sharply, and the shadows of more machines were easily spotted.

No lever in sight.

"We'll have to get under them."

"Without being crushed, I presume," smiled the Hattress.

Batman did not reply. He ran at the first machine, and stopped just before it, sliding under it fast…

It came down even faster…just missing him as he moved between the first and second pressers.

He did the same thing to the next three that were in the hall.

The Hattress followed suit, somersaulting into the air, and rolling under the presser, landing on her feet with ease, like a cat from a tree, and did this the next three times.

At the curved end of the hall there were two more machines.

And at the end of this curve was the second lever.

"Again?"

"No," Alice said, and drew the Vorpal Blade from its sheath. "I have a better idea. Stand back, just in case."

Realizing what Alice intended to do, the Dark Knight stepped back. Alice drew her hand, holding the knife, back, and flung it across the hall. The blade went under one open presser, and then the other…

The handle knocked into the lever, causing it to flip, and the machines stopped. The blade lay on the floor for a moment, then quivered, and flew back toward the Hattress' waiting hand, handle first. She replaced it in its sheath.

"DON'T YOU_ DARE_ STOP!" the March Hare bellowed at the Dodos, hearing the second set of pressers deactivate; there was a mere one left. "Keep running, you birdbrains, or, so help me, I'll roast you all on spits!"

Batman and Alice Liddell ran down the hall…straight into a pair of Eyepots. One of them lunged at Batman, the other at Alice.

_"Sukey, take it off again…"_

The Eyepots pinned them to the floor.

_"Sukey, take it off again…"_

Batman groaned as one clawed leg levelled its point at his forehead and tried to press down, while he tried to keep it from its grisly job with his free arm.

_"Sukey, take it off again…"_

Suddenly, the Eyepot holding Alice down fell in a smoking heap. The Vorpal Blade was stuck through its glass.

The Eyepot upon the Dark Knight turned to see, and, with a heave, the Caped Crusader tackled the tank-like creature to the floor, and shoved it forward, placing it under the first presser.

To say this broke the glass is not a necessary thing.

_"They've all gone away,"_ Alice finished, standing and replacing her hat – which had fallen from her head – back on its rightful place.

The last few halls of machines had three curves; one to the right, and one to the left, plus a third curve to the left, without any machines, they could not see that would bring them to March's lift.

Getting through these last few halls would be the trickiest part of all; the machines were pressing down so fast that they almost seemed to never rise at all.

They surged with grinding, groaning sounds as they banged and smashed at the factory hall floors.

Alice smiled.

_"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, a peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?_ It seems the Hare's pressers are tiring."

"March, doubtless, has the last lever to himself; we have to figure out a way to make him move the machines even faster; once they reach their breaking point, it should be a clear track to him."

Alice reached into her pockets, and pulled out the Demon Dice.

"If I can roll the right number, the dice will either electrify the machines, and thus create a power disturbance, or else freeze these pressers solid, forcing the March Hare to make them move even faster, to attempt to break the ice."

Without another word, Alice used an underhand toss to throw the dice. They bounded across the metal floor, moving easily under the first of the three machines in the hall, and stopped between it and the second.

The number was a seven.

Electricity.

KASHOOM!

A barrage of electric bolts flew from the dice, high-pitched laughter ringing out from them as they shocked the machines. They pressers moved faster and faster, the grinding of their gears becoming even louder; the noise was so abominable the Hattress and Batman covered their ears. (Unknown to them, the March Hare attempted to, as well, but could only manage one due to his bladed arm.) The mixture of the Dodo-generated power and the lightning were bringing the pressers to the breaking point…

"Stop!" shrieked the Hare at the Dodos, desperately trying to slow the wheels down, but not meeting much success. "That's enough now! Agh! Stop your running, you blithering idiots!"

But the Dodos could not stop…until it was too late.

With a final, rattling moan of electricity, the machines retreated, and the wheels slowed, and finally stopped.

The Cranking Up and Pressing Down section of the Mad Hatter's Domain had been shut down completely.

The Hare growled, and called down the hall, knowing his foes could hear him.

"You think this'll stop us?" he roared. "Feh! The merest trifle! I'll be leaving now. You'll never catch me…don't even try!"

Batman and Alice Liddell ran down the last few halls in a tearing flash, Alice picking up the dice as they sprinted by. They had a singular goal in mind: to ignore the Hare's suggestion and catch him.

They failed.

When they got to the end of the Hall, they found a sheer drop to the factory floor.

The March Hare, like the Dormouse, had escaped.

Above them, on the wheel that held the Mad Hatter's legs, the Cheshire Cat swirled into view.

"I'd say that wacky race had an excellent finish."

"Take Hatter's legs back to the junkyard," said the Dark Knight. "We'll meet you there."

Cheshire sighed.

"These are the jokes, folks," he muttered, and swirled away.

The legs vanished with him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: The Hat Must Go On!**

As Batman and Alice headed back for the junkyard, Cheshire reappeared beside them.

"How is Hatter?" Alice asked.

"Sleeping like a baby…a very diseased, demonic baby, but a baby nonetheless."

Alice nodded.

"I…I think I'll remain out here," she said to Batman. "If the Hare and the Dormouse sent troops, you'll need someone to keep a lookout in case of trouble."

Batman raised an eyebrow; there was definitely more than keeping watch on the Hattress' mind.

"Fine," he said simply. "Cheshire?"

The cat shrugged, and followed him. Alice stood behind, arms crossed, first in a show of strength…

Then, when she thought nobody was looking, in a self-hug.

The Mad Hatter was still leaning, asleep, beside a pile of scrap when Batman and the Cheshire Cat reentered the junk house. It was unnerving to see him asleep, gray, lidless eyes rolled to the back of his head; were his chest not heaving in and out, and were the gear in his back not turning round, one might well have thought him to be a limbless corpse.

And he apparently talked in his sleep.

He was muttering and mumbling unintelligibly as they approached, lost somewhere in a world where dreams and nightmares melded and meshed, where Time was ever moving, yet six o'clock remained constant.

"Hm…urgh…is that…? Is it…? No…tick, tock…awake…! Ack…bad dream…m-m-m-m-my…blasted goodnight…! Silly…"

"Hatter!"

The Hatter's head shook fast, and his eyes rolled back into place, the gray, unblinking orbs focusing slowly upon the black-clad figure and the light gray cat before him drowsily.

"What, what?" he chirruped, and then groaned as they became less blurry. "Oh…it's _you…"_

"How are you?" purred the Cheshire Cat.

"Mobility would make a nice change, as would dexterity."

"Your limbs were already brought here by Cheshire," Batman said. "What now?"

"Do you see that lever over there?" Hatter said, and turned his head in the direction he meant.

Batman turned in the same direction. He nodded, spotting the lever the Mad Hatter spoke of, half-hidden by rusty clockworks.

"Pull it," said the Hatter. "And then just stand back, watch, and wait. Observe, learn, and react. Machines will do the rest, you see."

Batman nodded again, and moved to the lever. It was rusty and old, and, at first, did not move. After a few sharp tugs, however, he was able to pull it down.

Out of the enormous clock in the center of the room appeared a giant, robotic arm, moving on a metal, tentacle-like apparatus, and with a hand that wore a leather glove. The robotic hand wrapped around the Mad Hatter's abdomen and lifted him up.

_"How may we assist you, Dr. Hatter?"_ came a soft, female, electronic-sounding voice from somewhere inside the clock.

Batman's eyes widened slightly behind his cowl. The Cheshire Cat raised a curious eyebrow.

The voice had a distinct "Alice-ness" to it.

"Well, first off, Clocky" Hatter said with a smirk, apparently talking to the device, "Arms would make a fine compliment…mine for preference."

Without a sound, the clock produced two more arms. Each one held one of the Mad Hatter's own arms in a gloved palm. They reached over to him, one on each side, and with a few twists and clicks, the arms connected into place. As the clock's hands retreated, the Hatter tested his arms, feeling…well…feeling from his shoulders out once more. He held them at a ninety degree angle, flexed his fingers and elbows a few times, twisted them around a bit, and smiled faintly.

"Perfect," he said. "Now, Clocky, if you would kindly give me my other half?"

A third arm appeared, grasping the Hatter's waist and legs, and lifted them up, snapping them into place. The arm then vanished from view. The Hatter gazed down at them, and kicked them feebly. His smile widened just a bit more, his broken buckteeth coming into view.

"Marvelous…simply marvelous…put me down now, please, Clocky."

The machine obeyed; the arm holding the Hatter by the torso immediately relinquished its grip and vanished. The Mad Hatter dropped to floor, landing like a cat, and rose slowly; his tall, thin, gangly form was towering, and the battered stovepipe hat upon his bald cranium did not make him seem any smaller. He looked down at himself, feet tapping the floor gently, rubber-gloved hands brushing the damp, oily ground.

He grinned now.

"Clocky," he almost whispered, "return my last effect to me."

A long, tentacle-esque arm extended from the clock tower, producing a familiar cane, topped with a pink, teapot-shaped ornament, and dropped it.

The Mad Hatter's long, lean arm reached out and caught the cane as it fell. He spun it like a baton, and swung it in vague arcs about him, apparently trying to remember the weight of his long-forgotten, most useful tool.

"I've finished my work, Hatter," Batman said. "You are complete. Now, what about this Infernal Train?"

The Hatter didn't seem to hear him. He held the cane up, and then held it out at arm's length, aiming it at the poster of the March Hare and the Dormouse that hung on the wall.

BANG!

The gunshot was only somewhat unexpected, and caused both Batman and the cat to wince at the sound.

The bullet had hit the March Hare's monocle…on the poster, anyway.

For a moment, the Mad Hatter just stood there, still poised in a firing position, grinning like a fool.

Then he began to chuckle…

The chuckle turned into a giggle…

And the giggle turned into a loud, raucous, laugh. He raised his arms above his head and cackled with triumph, the sound of his madness echoing everywhere.

"I FEEL LIKE A NEW MAN!" he roared. "Or…whatever I am! I feel like an unsprung spring! Like an…uncorroded gear! Like…an untarnished bit of metal that _sticks in your EYE!"_

He fired the cane gun again; this time the bullet went straight through the Dormouse's stomach… the picture's, that is.

"Well, someone's in a good mood," Cheshire mumbled.

"Hatter," Batman tried again. "You promised to help."

The Hatter beamed at him giddily; the Dark Knight briefly found himself wondering if he was truly gazing upon the dark, tormented wraith he had fought once before. The madman looked so garishly happy…

"Of course, of course!" the Hatter said, leaning his cane against his shoulder. "What is it you desire first?"

"Not me, you. Your Domain. We need to stop March and Dormy's Train. Cheshire says there are new laws, and…"

"Law? Law! Law," the Hatter said, and his gray, cold eyes lost focus, and gazed at the floor. "The law is just…just a whisper away…away home to Wonder…wonder who…? Who knows how to measure rules…? With a ruler! Cruel rules…hmm…"

He glared at the floor, a snarl beginning to ripple in his chest before coming up his throat. He fired again and again at the poster, each shot hitting what would have been a vital part had his opponents been there.

"DAMN AND BLAST THEM!" he screamed. "I'LL HAVE IT! I SWEAR, BY ALL THE AGES, I'LL HAVE IT! REVENGE WILL BE MINE!"

"…Hatter?"

The sound of a soft, feminine voice – not "Clocky's," but another's – interrupted the Hatter's rage. He, the Cheshire Cat, and Batman all turned to look at who was there.

Alice stood there, top hat and all, gazing at the Mad Hatter with wide eyes.

They stood facing each other for a while.

"A-Alice?" Hatter croaked, almost as if uttering her name alone caused him pain.

The girl nodded and smiled softly.

"I don't look like myself, do I?"

The Hatter eyed her, almost scientifically, and said at last, "That you don't."

There was a short silence.

"Mr. Wayne?"

"What?"

"Perhaps it would have been better you left me in bits."

"Why so?" meowed the Cheshire Cat.

The Hatter looked at him blandly.

"It seems my hallucinations are growing more and more realistic."

The Cheshire Cat let out a chortle of laughter, and covered it up with a cough.

Alice smirked and approached Hatter slowly.

He tensed up, hunched figure as stiff and straight as possible, silvery eyes gaping and moist, as she embraced him.

"Do I feel like a hallucination?"

Hatter gulped.

"N-no," he said with a shiver, "No you do not."

He pulled away from her, and she followed suit, although her arms remained around him. He carefully swept the top hat from her raven head, and ran his wiry, gloved fingers through it.

"I see you took my advice," he smiled.

"I did," was all Alice said.

"And the new suit?"

She smiled a bit wider.

"Some call me the Hattress now."

The Hatter raised an eyebrow.

"Hattress?"

She shrugged.

"It was either that or Steamstress."

Hatter chuckled.

"Your sense of humor is intact, I see…what happened to you?"

"It's a long story…"

"And we have no time to tell it," the Caped Crusader interrupted, not at all eager for the touching reunion of the two to escalate any further.

"There's even _less_ than none," Cheshire drawled in agreement, "and, as much as I hate to break up this scene, if feeling paralyzes us we are all lost."

"Right!" Hatter rasped, releasing Alice fast, as if she had not held him at all, making her jump back slightly in surprise. "We must not delay! No resting on laurels, _chaises_, Ming folding chairs, or stools! Heh! Let's get moving; time waits for no one! Follow me!"

Without another word, the Hatter tossed his cane into the air, caught it again, and dashed off as fast as his long legs could carry him.

Alice looked at Cheshire with a sense of irritation, and then turned to Batman.

"I spotted Eyepots before I came in," she said. "I fought them off, but I suspect there will be more. As my Hatter distracted me, it is probably best that we DO run."

And she darted after the Mad Hatter.

Batman followed.

And the cat, of course, simply disappeared.

The Hatter led them up a flight of stairs, muttering "Tick, tock, tick, tock," to himself as he went. Soon they found themselves on the roof of the junk house, peering out at the smog-smuggered air of the Mad Hatter's Domain.

Before them, in the distance, was a great clock tower, its topmost part in the shape of a sugar bowl. Like many of the clocks in the Domain, the hour hand took on the symbol of mercury, and all the numbers were Roman numerals, the hands circling a pin that resembled an eye with a red iris.

Over the clock was a great neon sign reading "Assemblage for Destruction."

"There is our destination," said the Mad Hatter. "The quickest way across is flight."

"Despite the identity of one of us," said Cheshire, eyeing Batman pointedly as he reappeared, "I doubt any of us has wings."

"My cape can act as a glider."

"Gliding will do us no good," Hatter snorted. "Thankfully, the Mad Hatter is nothing if not prepared…"

Here he clicked a hidden button on the ornament of his cane.

The roof was patterned with tile-like pieces of metal shaped like gears. Three of them rose into the air, floating about two feet above the ground.

"I'll take my own and lead the pack," Hatter said, clambering onto one of the floating gears. "Alice, you take another. Batman, you and the cat take the third."

The Hattress mock saluted, and jumped onto a gear. Batman climbed onto the third, and the Cheshire Cat jumped on after him.

"How do they work?"

"I think, therefore it moves," the Hatter smirked in reply to the Dark Knight's query, and his gear flew forward.

Alice followed him, singing softly, _"Old Mother Goose, when she wanted to wander, would ride through the air on a very fine gander."_

Batman watched her go, frowning slightly, and followed soon after.

They were airborne when something whizzed past his face.

"What in the world…?"

What appeared to be a rusty iron bolt, flying with wings of glass and bearing six sharp legs and a pair of pincer-like mandibles along its length, buzzed toward him.

"Bolterflies," hissed Cheshire, and swatted it away, smashing its wings and sending the creature to its certain doom. "One is a nuisance, but a swarm can be dangerous; something tells me that is not the last one we'll see.

"You're right, of course. March and Dormy must have sent them," said the Hatter grimly. "Look!"

Batman turned to see where Hatter's cane pointed. A virtual cloud of the glass and iron insects was veering toward them from the tower.

"How do you get rid of them?" Batman said, reaching for his belt.

"Simple," said the Hatter, and held up his cane like a baseball bat. "Beat them to a pulp!"

As if to demonstrate his point, he took a swipe at an oncoming Bolterfly, and it plummeted down through the sky.

Alice reached into her apron and pulled out the Hobby Horse, expanding it to full size; not much larger than a normal hobby horse. A pair of the metal insects buzzed toward her, and she swung the Hobby Horse hard; the metal toy not only bashed the glass wings of the bolt-headed bugs, but actually obliterated their bodies as well, bending them into boomerang shapes as it sent them plunging downward.

_"Knick-Knack, Paddy-Whack, Give a Dog a Bone!" _she rhymed, and swung at two more.

Batman pulled out a heavy bat-o-rang – meant for impact rather than piercing – and sent three of the Bolterflies down. A second of these sent four on a collision course with the smog-shrouded ground below.

Cheshire slashed and swatted at the cyborganic insects with his claws, but he couldn't get all of them, and a few bit into his fur; he grabbed them with his teeth, and cracked their wings, before spitting them out, so the glass would not cut his tongue.

As the insects came at them, it became harder to bash them. Their metallic claws and pincers nicked at the clothing of the three who wore it, although they had yet to draw blood. The Hatter's raving cries of "Punish them, punish them!" were drowned out by the beating of a hundred glassy wings. Batman reached into his belt and pulled out a handful of explosive capsules, flinging them into the cloud of rusted metal and glass. Several Bolterflies were caught by them at once, sending a good fraction of them to the ground.

Then came a familiar, warped whistle…

The Bolterflies seemed to lose interest and parted.

All looked toward the tower, which was coming up fast.

The steam whistle had most definitely come from there…

"The landing pads are up ahead," the Hatter said.

"What in Heaven made that whistle?" Alice asked.

"Do I really look like I know?" Hatter grumbled. "Your judgement must be _severely_ impaired…"

"We'll find out," Batman said. "Whatever it is, it must be stopped…"

_If stopping it is even possible…_


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: Time to Jump in Time to Jump Through Time (I'm Dizzy)**

The sugar bowl-shaped top of the towering building for Assemblage for Destruction was much larger than it seemed when flying through the air on floating gears.

The launching/landing pads were at the base of the bowl, and this led into a short hallway, with boxes and barrels of oil and clock bits littering its sides.

The Mad Hatter led them up to the door at the end of the hall; it was like the door of a bank vault or a locker, wrought from the thickest of metals with a combination circle set in place of a knob.

"Hmm…7, 4, 71…"

The Hatter tried to push open the door, but it wouldn't budge. He sighed.

"I should have guessed…my former associates have changed the combination."

"Allow me," Batman said, and took out a welding torch, burning off the combination lock. He reached through the hole it left behind, and opened the great metal door.

The door opened into a large, perfectly square room, with a long ramp that led up to a second door.

The Hatter looked first at this door, and then turned and scowled.

"Whatever is the matter?" Alice asked her misshapen beloved. Hatter pointed with a slender, rubber-clad finger at a niche in the wall above, where the ramp branched off. The niche had been closed off by a metal plate, but the plate, dented and smashed, lay on the floor, torn away, and the clockwork mechanisms it had covered lay partially contained within it, and partially scattered around before it.

"Those clock bits would be our Macadam, our route into Assemblage…but it seems my ex-lab rats have taken the necessary precautions to keep us from entering. The clockworks make the door automatic. Unfortunately, as they are, the door will remain locked."

"We could force it open…"

"Forget it, Batman; I made that door with a very particular lock, the strongest one in all of Wonderland. Nothing of our size can pry it open, and I have no Growing-Large Cake with me."

"What about Getting-Small Potion?"

"Eh?"

"Perhaps one of us could climb through a gap in the door."

The Hatter rolled his eyes.

"There ISN'T any gap."

_So much for that…_

"Couldn't you fix them, Hatter?" asked the Hattress. The Hatter smiled proudly, tipping his hat to his lady.

"Mechanical controls are my specialty, Alice…leave them to me!"

So saying, the Mad Hatter spun the teapot-topped cane in his hand, and ran towards the door. With a near-superhuman leap, he jumped up to the niche, landing on the ramp with a distinct clatter. Straightening his hat, and placing his weapon beside him, he got on his knees and set to work at once.

"Hmm…let me see…this goes here…? No, no, no, that's all wrong…ah! There! Now I've got it! As for this one…perfect!"

The Hatter mumbled things like this for a while, while Batman and Alice waited impatiently.

"On a roll, isn't he?" purred the Cheshire Cat, swirling into view; he had vanished shortly after they had landed.

"You do realize how utterly annoying your habit of vanishing and reappearing is, don't you?" Alice grumbled.

"I believe you once told me it made you giddy. I need no other reason to go on."

Before the argument could go on, a disturbing, wailing cry filled the ears of all four. The Hatter paused in his work, in the process of fixing a coil into its place, and looked down to see what was going on.

A familiar, black, tar like substance oozed up from the cracks in the floor, bubbling like broth. It rose, creating three, blobby shapes. They had the eyeless doll heads, with the sockets and jaws oozing tar, and the bodies made of the sticky substance, but they were clearly of a different variety than the snake-like creature Batman had encountered in the Vale of Tears.

These Ruins had two arms, apparently made from tar, with metal claws extending from the finger tips, coated in the black gunk. Their short, dwarfish, stooped bodies were also formed from tar, and two miniature smokestacks came from their backs. They moved about on four legs, formed from tar again, not unlike the legs of a crab…which is how they moved, more side to side than back and forth.

"Insidious Ruins," hissed the Cheshire Cat. "They earn their name well."

"Despicable things," muttered Alice, drawing the Vorpal Blade and flipping it in her hand.

"Despicable?" the cat snorted. "They're HORRIBLE. And dangerous."

"Hatter, hurry!" Batman barked, as the three Insidious Ruins let out another howl and skittered towards them.

The Mad Hatter quickly turned his attention to the clock parts…only to get a raking from the claws a fourth Ruin. With a growl, the Hatter fired his cane gun into the Ruin's face. The creature howled, its shattered jaws breaking, and fell from the ramp top to the floor, where it melted into a pool of tar, hardened, and crumbled into black dust.

With a huff, Hatter wiped his bloody, gaunt cheek with a grimy blue handkerchief, and then placed the spring in its proper place, in a great rush to finish the device's repairs.

On the floor, Batman tossed a bat-o-rang at the first Insidious Ruin. It opened its mouth and swallowed the blade. A bulge appeared in its tarry belly, and the bat-o-rang was "spat" out from it. It wailed again, and swiped at the Dark Knight…and missed. The Caped Crusader sidestepped a second swipe, and whipped out a tear gas pellet, slamming it into the doll-like face of the monster.

It may have had no eyes to shed tears with, but apparently the Ruin had other ways of seeing, for it howled and lashed out, blinded. Batman whipped out a pair of bat-o-rangs and slammed them into the eye sockets of the creature, smashing its face. It screamed, and crumbled away.

The Hattress preferred a more close-quarters method of combat; she waited until the second Ruin was almost upon her, and then nimbly flipped over its head, landing on her feet, and then spinning around, trying to slice at the beast with her knife. It dodged, let out a garbled laugh, and lunged. Knocking her to the floor and sending her blade to one side. Alice wrenched her leg up, and through a kick into the Ruin's face, cracking the porcelain but not breaking it.

The Ruin stood, stunned, and Alice Liddell quickly picked up her blade and plunged it through the center of the Insidious Ruin's face and out the other side. Needless to say, the Ruin quickly disintegrated.

The third Ruin advanced on the Cheshire Cat, who growled darkly as he stepped back, hissing angrily.

"Now it's time to put my own _blades_ to work," he snarled, and slashed his scythe-like claws at the monster, which scampered back a bit, surprised by its intended victim's sudden attack. The cat pounced upon the creature while it was distracted and sunk his teeth into the Ruin's eyeholes, tearing the doll-face from where it sat. The Ruin had a silent death, and the feline crushed the mask beneath his paw.

"Not bad," Batman said, coming up. The cat growled in response, trying to lick the now-crusty tar from his paws, grimacing at the taste.

"Nobody corners a Cheshire Cat," he said blackly.

"I can't be kerbobbled forever…"

This voice was that of the Mad Hatter. He had been trying to fit the last cog of the system into place, but the wicked thing would not cooperate…

Finally, he fixed it into its proper spot, and the clockworks in the niche started turning and ticking.

"That's it!" he laughed, slapping his palms together, and turned to his compatriots below him. "We're in!" he called out. "Come on!"

With this, Hatter bounded across the ramp and out the automatic doors. The Cheshire Cat swirled out of sight, as usual, while Alice and Batman ran up the ramp after him.

To their exasperation, another door awaited him. Hatter was straining and growling, trying to get it open with his cane…without much success.

"Come now, you silly thing," he hissed. "Work, blast you! Work!"

Finally he gave up, placing his hand over his mouth in thought.

The familiar warped train whistle that echoed around them warned them that Time was moving fast. It was louder now, so loud that Alice pulled her hat over her ears, gritting her ears, and Batman, while he did not move an inch, thought his eardrums would burst.

"What a racket!" grumbled the Cheshire Cat, the golden mist marking his entrance. "Reminds me of your piano lessons, Bruce…"

"You know about those?"

Cheshire eyed him blandly.

"What's the matter, Hatter?" asked the Dark Knight.

"I'm trying to think," said the Hatter slowly, apparently unaffected by the bellowing whistle. "But nothing happens! This door leads to an elevator, which will bring us up to the main area of Assemblage for Destruction. But I cannot open the door…it isn't locked, yet it refuses to move!"

Batman looked at the door for a while.

He noticed a small, open crack near the bottom.

"I'll see about it," he said simply.

And he was three inches tall.

Alice and the Hatter stared, while the cat, clearly uninterested, blinked at him for a moment, and resumed licking his claws, which had still not yet been cleansed.

"Be right back," said Batman, his voice oddly not having grown softer, though his size had grown smaller, and ran under the door like a mouse.

As soon as he was on the other side, he grew back to normal; Alice had known what she was talking about when she had said three inches was a wretched height to be in the books.

To his surprise, the door was being held shut by a thick coating of Ruin, the tar mingled with doll arms and heads, which were soundless and clearly not alive.

Batman took up a bat-o-rang and tried to stab it through one of the five heads embedded in the dark, smelly substance. The blade bounced off it like it was mere rubber, rebounding like a magnet trying to connect with similar ends to another.

"At this rate, Batman," snapped the Mad Hatter from the other side, "I'll never get back my domain! Try harder!"

_Five heads…a lock of tar…I need to find the key…_

_And the key is the centerpiece._

He held up the bat-o-rang once more, and stabbed it into the center head of the five. It fell apart with a hissing sound, and the others around it followed suit, like dominoes. The tar crumbled away, and Batman opened the door, allowing the Mad Hatter, Alice, and the Cheshire Cat entrance.

"This last hall leads straight to the main area," said the Hatter. "My shortcut paid off!"

_Some shortcut…_

"Hurry!" said Hatter, and took off, closely followed by the others. "We must make haste! This is one Train we dare not miss!"


	22. Chapter 22

Notes: New Track added: Track 28. (The word "Track" is partly a pun now.) This chapter might be considered a sort of "Mini-Battle Chapter;" the way this played out in _Madness Returns_ was somewhat funny, but I didn't really like it. Also, there is a quote toward the end of this chapter from, of all things, an episode of the T.V. Series _Adventures in Wonderland,_ the episode in question being "Welcome Back, Hatter!" I own it not. Now, moving right along…

**Chapter 22: Fall of the House of Hatter**

Assemblage to Destruction was surprisingly…bare.

In fact, there seemed to be nothing around but a great number of hooks, wires, and other apparatuses hanging from the ceiling, a great, dock-like ramp, where Batman, Alice, the Cheshire Cat, and the Mad Hatter now stood.

And, across from them, a thing that could only come from the depths of purgatory itself.

A great, black train, with a locomotive that resembled, in both shape and size, a dark, iron-bricked cathedral with windows stained a bloody scarlet. A smokestack took the place of a minaret, and the roof held a short (for it) slope where the immense cab doubtless was. Lamps shaped like tombstones were set upon its buffers, which, along with the giant cowcatcher at its front, were spiked with black, horn-like protrusions. The enormous, out-of-tune whistle blew again, and the frightful engine pulled forward. Sparks flew from its gigantic wheels, and these sparks formed tracks before it, allowing it movement. The train moved by much more quickly than expected, as if it had already been underway, and was not just starting. It's cars were double-decked, and resembled, like the engine, great black buildings with red windows…hospitals, with two stories, to be more precise. As the Infernal Train rushed by, the thick, billowing, burning smoke made the foursome cough violently, and they shut their eyes and hid their noses and mouths to keep out the foul, dark gray, vaporized substance.

"Curses!" coughed the Cheshire Cat, as the Infernal Train vanished. "We've already missed the Train!"

Batman shuddered, gasping as the whistle blew again. He watched as the Infernal Train left through Assemblage, a door opening for it, and flew across the skies, like a Train with wings, the tracks that formed behind it disappearing, and more appearing before it.

Even without asking, he knew what the Infernal Train would do: wreak havoc upon Wonderland, and, by extension, his existence.

As if things weren't horrific enough…

"Well," sighed Alice, with a short cough. _"We've found the source of the shaking…but are those two quaking?_ Where are March and Dormy? What are they up to now?"

As if to answer them, the high-noted voice of the Dormouse echoed everywhere around them.

_"You'll never stop us, Batman! Silly Hatter and Hattress! It's left! You're too late! Ho Ho Ho Ho!"_

The Mad Hatter growled, grasping his cane tightly and gazing at the floor.

"The insolence!" he rasped. "The arrogance! The execrable TABLE MANNERS! They are DESTROYERS of Wonderland! Defilers! Deluders! Derangers!"

Here he paused, a familiar darkness creeping into his eyes.

"Delightful…"

The darkness left him immediately, and he coughed violently, still recovering from the smoke.

"What would cause them to build that Infernal Train to help destroy Wonderland?"

The Hatter waved a dismissive hand, apparently ignoring Batman's question.

"What does that matter?" he snapped. "They've stolen my Domain! They deserve to die! Why, I ought to-!"

Hatter was unable to say anymore. A large hook lowered suddenly from the ceiling.

"Hatter!" Alice said, trying to get his attention.

But it was too late. The hook latched itself in the front of the Hatter's straitjacket collar as he turned around, lifting him into the air and out of reach.

"Put me down this instant!" grunted Hatter, trying to break free, but giving up when he realized he would fall into the insidious, vast blackness below if he did. He yelped as the hook briefly let go, then caught him again, so that he was hanging by the seat of his pants. Needless to say, it was a most humiliating position, heightened by the sound of the laughter of the March Hare and the Dormouse, echoing around him.

"Of course you realize this means war…" he mumbled.

"Enough talk!" March's voice rapped. "Battle time, kiddies!"

A gigantic spotlight appeared from above. Batman, Alice Liddell, and the Cheshire Cat turned to see what it was shining upon.

Slowly, ominously, like Neptune from the sea, came a great, rust-red form, suspended by chains like a metal marionette. Its body had the bulky shape of an Automaton Guard, but with a front cut into the shape of a dog's face, its mouth wide open, revealing a vast, gaping hole. The creature rose higher and higher, its vestigial, horned head gazing down with electric bulb eyes. It hoisted up a pair of immense, metal arms, like the arms of a clockwork toy. One ended in a great, iron hand, currently curled in a thick fist. The other ended in a large drill, painted a bright orange.

Visible on the Mecha's shoulders were two glass domes.

Inside these could quickly be seen the figures of the March Hare and the Dormouse, March atop the right shoulder, and Dormy upon the left.

"Clear the Platform!" cackled March.

"Hold your ears! Cover your nose! Forget the past! The damage is done!" laughed Dormy.

"Let the Madness begin! Resume the Folly!" brayed March. "All aboard!"

Dormy, who controlled the fist, tugged hard at a lever on the panel before him. The Mecha's great, rusty hand rose up and then came crashing down with phenomenal speed and strength.

Alice, who was directly in the path of the fist, nimbly rolled to the side. The ramp, thicker than it seemed, shook violently from the force of the blow. Bits of metal rained down from the ceiling.

March attacked next, the drill plunging downward. Batman saw it coming for him and leaped over it, while Cheshire disappeared, avoiding injury. The point bore a hole into the ramp, shaking it even more. The rodents in the glass domes guffawed as their prey was shaken toward the edge of the ramp.

The third attack came from the Mecha's center: each of them slammed their paws onto a green button on their control panel. A series of red lights surrounding the gaping hole in the "mouth" of the Mecha flashed, and a cannon barrel slid out. March flicked his ear, and his monocle became a sighting device, and Dormy rang his bell/helmet, causing a similar mechanism to pop out of the top.

"Tell me, Dormy," the March Hare smirked. "Do you like your Bats Original Recipe, or Popcorn-style?"

"Actually, I like Extra Crispy!"

The two laughed, and, now dead on target, flicked a switch on their panels.

A jet of flame shot out from the Mecha. Batman moved away just in time, but Alice was frozen solid, the flames shooting towards her apparently not registering.

But, in fact, they were...far, far too well.

At the last second, she dropped down, her hat and ragged sleeve singed...

And found herself rolling to the edge of the ramp when the Dormouse-controlled fist slammed into the ramp again.

The Hattress let out a short scream as she grabbed onto the edge of the ramp, and tried to heave herself back up.

The Dormouse and March broke into identical, sinister grins, and leveled the drill at her.

Batman, seeing what was going to happen, jumped to his feet and ran over to Alice...only to be intercepted by a blast of fire. He glared up at the March Hare, who wagged his gloved finger teasingly, winking one eye.

Above, the Hatter, temporarily forgotten, watched all with a sense of growing horror.

"Oh, God in Heaven..." he murmered, as Alice dangled from the edge. He struggled to move, managing to stand, his feet balanced precariously on the blade of the hook, one hand grasping the chain it hung from, the other still clutching his cane in a death grip.

"Hold on, Alice!" he shouted. "Hold on!"

He glanced around quickly.

_Come on, Poor Speaker; there's always something. Always something to work with...still time..._

He spotted a weak link in one of the chains that held the Mecha up.

_Perfect._

In a single, fluid motion, the Hatter raised his cane, aimed, and fired at the link.

The Mecha shook as the chain broke, distracting Dormy and the Hare from their quarry.

The Hatter smirked as the two banged their heads on the glass domes as they tilted to one side, and swung like a man on a vine down onto the ramp below. He grunted as he landed, and reached out a hand to Alice.

"Come, Alice," he smiled. "Can't be late for tea."

Alice smiled back as he brought her back onto the ramp.

Then gasped.

"Look out!" she said, and pushed him to the side, both the Hatter and the Hattress falling on top of each other as they hit the ground, barely avoiding the blaze that caught them.

Batman whipped out two bat-o-rangs; now that the Hattress was out of danger, he could focus on the Dormouse and the March Hare's Mecha. He flung them both at another chain; the first weakened a link, the other snapped it.

The Mecha tilted again, causing two more chains to snap from the strain.

"AGH!" screamed Dormy. "OH, NO!"

"AH, NO!" the March Hare wailed. "ABANDON SHIP!"

The two pulled a lever on their panels, and the glass lifted up, and they jumped from the Mecha onto the ramp.

The instant they landed, a black glove connected with the Dormouse's face, sending him to the floor, tilting back on his wheels.

"OW!" he squeaked.

The March Hare snarled, and lashed out with his blade. Batman ducked the most definitely lethal blow, and whipped a haymaker into March's face. The Hare reeled, the blow cracking his monocle glass. He fell to ground from the force of second blow.

Batman loomed over him, like a shadow, glaring like a furious wraith.

The Hare, unaffected, though other opponents might be scared stiff, wiped some blood from his nose, adjusted his monocle, and lunged.

Batman avoided the blow, and kicked the Hare in the back of the noggin. The lapin yelped in pain, and spun around, kicking Batman in the chest with one iron foot.

The Dark Knight fell to the floor, winded by the strength in the Hare's cybernetic limbs. The Dormouse giggled, back on his feet, and whipped out his cable-like tail, wrapping tightly around Batman. He motored forward until he had the Caped Crusader hanging from the edge of the ramp.

"Bye-bye, little bat!" he laughed, and was about to drop him...

When the painful sting of a sharpened jack in his stomach stopped him.

He cried out, and his tail whipped around, Batman being thrown back onto the ramp-port.

Alice snarled, pulling her blade out from its sheath.

Dormy scowled, hissing as he plucked the Jacks O' Death out of his belly, leaving small, bloody holes. The Hare walked up, holding his blade up...

The imminent battle was interrupted by the rattling of the ceiling. All looked up.

Bits of metal, pieces of chains, large hooks...all came falling down, crashing into the abyss below.

The Hatter stared, edging away from the madness, eyes focused on the ceiling above him, losing their grip...

"NOOOO!" he howled. "No! My precious Domain!"

Ignoring him, the Hare swung out at Alice, who parried the strike with her dagger. The Dormouse charged, rattling towards her fast, but was intercepted by the Cheshire Cat, who reappeared quickly, hissing angrily. The wheel-legged rodent gasped, natural instinct overcoming his villainous rage.

And, at that moment, a large metal plate slammed into the ramp...and sent him tumbling off the ramp into the blackness, screaming like a banshee all the way down.

March stared.

"DORMY!"

Alice jabbed at the exposed cheek of the March Hare, who responded by smacking her with the flat of his blade. She cried out and hit the ground.

"Assemblage is collapsing!" Cheshire growled.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Batman said.

"You don't understand; Assemblage is the center of the Domain. The cornerstone. Once it falls..."

Batman's eyes widened.

The Hare came up at that moment, shrieking with blind, insane fury; his friend gone, and his cheek bloody, tears staining his eyes, making his monocle moist. He swung the blade downward like an axe. The Dark Knight avoided him, spinning to face him.

"Stop this, you maniac! We have to leave!"

"No!" the Hare screamed. "Nobody's leaving! WE'RE LATE FOR TEA!"

He lunged again. Batman kicked him back.

March bumped into the Hatter, who, by this point, had lost touch with any sense of "reality" whatsoever. He gazed upward dumbly, watching his empire of steam, steelworks, and clock pieces crumble around him. He'd worked to build it so long, and now...now he'd caused its destruction...

"No..." he sobbed, the smallest of tears leaking from one silver eye. "No...my Domain..."

The Hare glared at him, rising to his feet, steam literally coming from his ears in his rage.

_"You._ _YOU'RE_ THE ONE WHO BROUGHT THIS ON!" he cried.

The maddened March Hare swiped at him...

The Hatter whipped about to face him, blocking the blow with his cane.

His gray eyes had turned red.

"I. AM. GOING. TO. KILL. YOU!"

This they said in chorus.

The former friends swung their weapons, blade thwacking against the metal cane-gun as they dueled.

"Monster!"

"Fiend!"

"Murderer!"

"Likewise!"

"Maniac!"

"We all are!"

"Time-killer!"

"Time-stopper!"

"DIE!"

"AFTER YOU!"

And the Hatter swung his cane with all his might, slamming the teapot-ornament into the March Hare's skull, smashing the mixture of metal and bone and brain matter within into a hopeless mush with a single blow.

The March Hare let out a moan and hit the ramp floor, stone dead.

But the Hatter was far from finished. Again and again, he brought the thick ornamented end of his weapon down, smacking it into the bloody pulp that was March's skull without yield. He saw nothing but red...literally, seeing as he was now covered in gore.

"DESTROYER!" he roared. "I'LL MAKE YOU PAY! _I'LL MAKE YOU PAY!"_

"HATTER!" yelled Alice. "STOP! WE'VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE!"

"There's not time for...whatever it is you want to talk about!" snapped the Mad Hatter, smashing his cane into the cyborganic corpse two more times as he spoke.

"Hatter!" Batman called out. "We need to go! The building is going to fall! It's over! You promised to help!"

"Can't help! Can't stop! Tick tock! DIE, DIE, DIE...!"

"Hatter, the Train! I'm trying to fix Wonderland, and I believe the Infernal Train will impede my progress! You said you would help!"

"Hatter, my love, come on!"

"Talk Trains with the Mock Turtle!" Hatter called back, the sound of the crumbling, shaking building drowning him out. "He ran the Looking-Glass Line!"

And that was the last they saw of him; several pieces of metal support slammed into the ramp, hiding him from view. Amidst the steam, blood, and flickering light, they could see him beginning to slow in his assault on the carcass, but, if he was saying anything, it was impossible to hear.

"HATTER!" cried Alice, running forward.

"No, Hattress! Wait!" Batman said, grabbing her arm.

"Unhand me! I can't leave him! HATTER!"

"CHESHIRE! GET US OUT!"

The cat said nothing...

But none of the three spent another second in the Mad Hatter's Domain, vanishing just in time as a slab of iron plating crashed down where they had stood.

Meanwhile, Hatter, his energy spent, slumped down, his cane rolling away from him and falling off the ramp. He crumpled to his knees, panting, soaked in the blood of his battered, broken friend.

Tenderly, distractedly, he reached out with one rubber-gloved hand and picked up the Hare's head...or what was left of it.

"March...I'm sorry," he whispered. "I believe I quite lost my temper. Shall we make up over some tea?"

So saying, he made the battered, caved-in face nod, and smiled.

As if from nowhere, he produced a teacup. It was empty, but he didn't realize this, of course.

"Come on, Marchy...we can still be friends. Look: I've got here a fine bit of Darjeeling! Drink, drink!"

He tipped the cup to the Hare's face, pouring its nonexistent contents down the shattered throat and past the utterly mangled maw. He giggled madly.

"There now...better, eh?"

A rattling sound came from the Hare's throat...not a sign of life by any means, but simply the last bits of his mechanics shutting down for good. A final, nervous reaction.

To the Hatter's ears, it sounded like an agreement.

"Good," he said with a smile. "Now, come...let's find Dormy, hm?"

He made the head nod again.

He propped the destroyed body up, as if he were trying to carry the Hare.

"Come on, you nut...let's go."

He slowly trudged toward the edge of the ramp, pieces of clockwork and metal supports falling behind him. The ramp was going to break at any moment.

He gazed down into the blackness below. Although he could not tell, it just kept on going; the bottom supports of his Domain had given way, leaving a sheer drop to the ground, several hundred feet below.

He gazed down, and, had he eyelids, would have blinked. He looked into the gouged-out eyes of the March Hare.

"Long way down, huh?"

He made the head nod. He sighed.

"Well...I guess Dormy decided to try spelunking. Probably fell asleep down there...we should help him out. Don't you agree?"

Once more, he nodded the head. He chuckled and smiled warmly.

"We'll always stay friends, right March?"

Another forced nod.

He gulped back a sob, another tear streaming down his ravaged cheeks.

"That's what I thought. _Hatter and Hare, quite a pair..."_

Then the clock of the tower fell to the ramp, and it broke...

Hatter died before he hit the ground.

Far below, a wandering Boojum gazed curiously at the sight of a broken monocle, a clockwork dial, and a zodiac-chessboard patterned stovepipe hat all hanging from the branches of a tree.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23: Keeping Careful Count…**

Professor Hugo Strange looked up as the door to his office was opened unexpectedly.

His smile would have seemed false to even the most naïve of fools.

"Dr. Thompkins…what warrants this visit?"

"Professor Strange," Leslie Thompkins said, her greeting icy. "I was wondering when I'd see you again."

"As was I, but this does not answer my question," said the professor coolly, steepling his hands and leaning forward slightly. "Won't you sit down?"

"I'll stand," said the doctor, folding her arms over her chest. Strange shrugged.

"Very well. I ask again, why are you here?"

"Bruce Wayne has gone missing."

Professor Strange sighed.

"So I know," he said. "Two strapping young gentlemen already informed me. I shall tell you what I told them: Wayne came to my office at the request of his butler, one Mr. Alfred Pennyworth, complaining of unsettling nightmares. I prescribed some pills, and he left. I know nothing else."

Thompkins glared.

"I don't believe you," she said simply.

"Believe me or don't," Strange shrugged. "It's the truth, either way."

"That I know," said Thompkins. "That's why I asked Alfred to give me the prescription bottle."

Strange blinked in a slow, dull manner.

"Go on."

"Those pills contained a very…interesting chemical. Mixed with other chemicals, it forms a formula. And the formula…"

"If you are accusing me of something, Dr. Thompkins, you can leave off at that."

"I am. Those pills contain formulas and chemicals and other ingredients not allowed on the market, or even as prescriptions…the government has banned their use in any way whatsoever. I've checked."

Strange shrugged again.

"They work," he said simply.

Thompkins' eyes flashed wide opened. She grit her teeth in anger.

"So you've used them before?"

"Yes, and none of my patients has complained from them yet."

"Because their dead? Or because they really do work?"

Strange's cool, passive air never quavered.

"I don't mistreat my patients, doctor," he said. "I give them what they need, and they get what they deserve in return."

"I'll have your license revoked," snarled Leslie Thompkins. "You'll never show your face in Gotham again."

Strange chuckled.

"Dear Dr. Thompkins, I'm afraid that idea won't work?"

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because the pills I gave to Wayne were the last I had, and my other patients are unaware of the things you say. You have no way of proving I have admitted to using them, nor any way of proving they work; the chemicals you've checked, once dissolved, are nearly untraceable. As far as I can see, I'm home free."

Thompkins glared darkly. She sighed heavily.

"Well, _professor,_" she said, "it seems you have me in quite a fix. But we aren't finished here."

So saying, Dr. Thompkins turned to leave.

Just before she did, her eyes fell upon a pearl rosary upon the professor's desk.

They widened once more, this time in surprise.

Strange noticed her line of sight and smiled thinly.

"Do you like it?" he asked amiably. "A friend gave it to me."

Leslie Thompkins said nothing. She eyed Strange darkly one last time and left.

The instant she was gone, the professor frowned.

_That woman's going to prove troublesome…I can feel it…_

_ Well, we know what to do._

Strange picked up a phone on his desk and dialed a number. He held it to his ear and waited.

"…Hello? Yes. This is Professor Hugo Strange. May I speak with Dr. Arkham?"

Another pause.

"Hello there? Ah, Jeremiah! This is Strange. Hugo Strange. You remember me, don't you? Yes…well, I have a small question regarding one of your patients. Which one? Hmm…if my files are correct, he goes by the name of Mr. Victor Zsasz…"


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24: Frozen in Thought**

"I absolutely forbid it!"

A small boy peeks through the doorway of a half-closed room.

Leslie Thompkins, hands on her hips, stands before another man with a subtle air of defiance. The man in question is very angry. The boy cannot see him fully, but he notices the glint of the sunlight on his dark glasses.

"I don't see what the problem is, professor," says another voice, this coming from a man in a suit who stood between them. "Nurse Thompkins and Mr. Pennyworth's offer is generous, and our department sees no reason not to go along with it."

"Thomas Wayne's instructions to me were very clear," growled the man in glasses. "Upon his death, were no other family members alive to care for the boy, his son was to fall into my hands. Bruce Wayne belongs to me!"

"With all due respect, Professor," the other man says soothingly, "there is no proof of this, and the will of the deceased does not give any indication of ownership for the boy, only the funds and property he owned…which amount to a great deal. A small percentage of this amount goes to you, but young Mr. Wayne's guardianship is not, in any, specified."

"But the Wayne Home for Wayward Youth is where he should be!" snapped the professor. "Not with some nurse and a butler!"

"On the contrary, professor," the other man said, taking a deep breath. "If anything, Nurse Thompkins and Mr. Pennyworth have more reason to care for the boy than you; Ms. Thompkins is not a blood relative by any means, no more than Mr. Pennyworth, but both were known to be friends of both the late Thomas and Martha Wayne, and both have cared for the boy in some capacity already. The Waynes – God rest their souls – were just as good as parents as they were at anything else, but even they couldn't always be there."

There was silence for a moment.

"This is not over," the professor said at last in a soft, warning voice. "I will have Bruce Wayne, one way or another. You see if I don't get him."

"If you have nothing else to say, Professor Strange, then you may go."

A small boy ducks under a chair in the hall as the professor approaches the door. He peers up from his hiding place.

The professor was tall and muscular. His hairline was receding greatly, and a thick goatee-style beard covered his chin. His dark glasses hid his eyes. He sighed irritably, placing a derby hat on his head.

He pulled a rosary out of his pocket, looked at it with a sickly sort of smile, and walked off.

_**"We're getting warmer, Batman…"**_

__The Dark Knight groaned, opening his eyes.

"…Yet we're ice cold."

Batman rose slowly. The Cheshire Cat stood before him, shivering.

He shivered as well.

The cause for this was obvious. The area they stood in was a great, vast arctic wasteland. Glaciers and icebergs were the only footing. The sky was lavender in color, and, to his surprise, he noted the moon in the sky seemed to have a face on it…and was smoking a cigar, the smoke forming borealis lights.

There was not much else to go on…the icy waters and landscape made up everything. White and blue were all he could see.

He frowned; for once, he was thankful for the insidious-yet-idealistic properties of Wonderland. The land was not much colder than a normal winter's night in Gotham…still icy, but not so that his Batsuit was not protective. A few shivers and cold, uncovered eyes were all he had to worry about.

"Where are we now?"

"Tundraful," Cheshire purred. "Believe it or not, this was once a beach."

Batman nodded shortly and looked around.

"Where is the Hattress?"

"Ms. Liddell is by the water," said the cat, and tilted his head in the direction indicated.

Batman gazed off to the side.

Alice, top hat at her side, sat cross-legged on the edge of the ice. Her emerald eyes shone like lanterns in the dim, purplish light of Tundraful. She swept an ungloved, metal finger through the water idly.

If the streaks on her cheeks were any indicator, she had been crying.

Batman approached her quietly.

"Hattress?" he whispered.

"I could have saved him," she said. "I know I could have."

"He was beyond saving, mentally," Batman countered. "There was nothing you really could have done…you would have died with him."

"I wouldn't have minded," Alice said firmly, and stood up, shaking the wiry fingers of her robotic hand to remove some of the water on them. Straightening her sweater like a jacket, chin held high, she slipped her glove back onto the hand and picked up her hat, brushing some ice off of it.

"Where do we go now?" the Dark Knight asked, turning to the Cheshire Cat.

The cat grinned a bit wider.

"The Mad Hatter will not have died in vain," he said. "The Mock Turtle may have lost the Looking-Glass Line, but I was told he was hiding here…somewhere."

"He is," said Alice. "Now that I think on it, with the March Hare and the Dormouse gone, he may be the only one with any useful information on this Infernal Train…"

"Where do we find him?" Batman asked.

"He's a sailor now," Alice replied. "He runs a Ship-In-A-Bottle here in Tundraful."

Batman raised an eyebrow.

"He sails in a ship in a bottle?"

"Ships-In-Bottles are the Wonderland equivalent to your submarines," Cheshire purred. "Capable of sailing on the surface or under the sea…unless their bottle glass is broken, in which case they cannot submerge safely."

"I can bring you to him," Alice said, placing one hand on her hip, right over the hilt of her Vorpal Blade. "I spent years here trying to perfect my skills, so I could help my Hatter regain his Domain…a fat lot of good it did."

"Thank you."

"Cold hands, warm heart," Cheshire chuckled, and vanished.


	25. Chapter 25

Notes: New track added to soundtrack (on profile): Track 18.

**Chapter 25: Icy Imaginings…**

The cold, frosty plains of ice that made of Tundraful were not altogether difficult to traverse. Alice led Batman across the frigid terrain swiftly. Ice Snarks – cold-blooded relatives of the lava-dwelling amphibians of the Land of Fire and Brimstone – had attacked at one point, spitting acid in founts. A few bat-o-rangs, however, had quickly dispatched them.

The pair came to a large, circular area…a sort of bowl…which was circled with a variety of creatures, all frozen solid. Among them Batman spotted a duck, a lory, an eaglet, an owl, a pelican, a magpie, two crabs, a mouse, and an ape.

Not only had the unfortunate beings been frozen like popsicles, but large bite marks had been taken out of their chilled carcasses, leaving gaping holes and tears in their forms, their blue-tinted, frosted innards spilling out grotesquely.

"Once upon a time," Alice murmured, eyes fixed on the frozen mouse, who had its tail bitten off, "this was where the Dodo held his caucus race. It was still going on when the Ruin came…we don't know how, but they froze the entire area."

"What caused these bites?"

"Shipwreck Sharks," Alice replied curtly. "I'm guessing we'll be seeing them shortly."

And she walked off, running a finger across the ice-covered spine of the pelican as she left.

_"Here we go 'round the mulberry bush, mulberry bush, mulberry bush…here we go 'round the mulberry bush, all on a Monday morning…"_

Batman looked after her for a moment before following.

"Disturbed creature, isn't she?" purred the Cheshire Cat, swirling beside him, keeping in perfect step.

"What's her story?"

Cheshire raised on eyebrow.

"It is better to ask her."

"I tried to. She didn't tell me anything."

Cheshire nodded solemnly.

"Every picture tells a story," he began cryptically. "Sometimes we don't like the ending…sometimes we just don't understand it."

So saying, he vanished.

_Picture…?_

"AHA!"

A short cry from Alice caught his attention.

The Hattress had drew her Vorpal Blade, looking toward the sky darkly, hat brim shadowing her emerald eyes.

He soon saw what had caused her alarm.

A large, skeletal-like creature, made up of pieces of driftwood, with jagged, splintered teeth and lanterns for eyes was above her…flying in the air. It had fins made from rudder bits, and the upper jaw was created from a shattered hull, a curved bit of wood making the lower one.

"That's a Shipwreck Shark?"

"Only Turtle's ship's cannons can break their wood," hissed Alice. "But we can still slow them down!"

So saying, she took a clockwork bomb from her apron and tossed it at the wooden beast.

The Shipwreck Shark bit down on the malevolent stuffed rabbit, and the blast dislocated its jaw. With a snarl, it shook its head, setting it back into place.

Alice took off, one hand on her hat, blade in her other hand, while Batman sprinted after her.

The shark let out a roar, which sound suspiciously more reptilian than fish, and flew after them, its caudal fin spinning like the propeller of a speedboat. Two more Shipwreck Sharks appeared and followed suit.

Batman flung a handful of smoke pellets at the wooden creatures. The smoke fogged their lantern eyes, blinding the beasts, and they "swam" even faster.

As they turned a corner, walking along an icy cliff, a shark barreled into the cliff wall, causing both to lose their balance. Alice Liddell grabbed onto the cliff edge, but the Dark Knight was not quite so lucky. He hurtled downwards, straight toward the splintering jaws of a Shipwreck Shark…

BANG!

The shark's wooden head was blown apart, and it fell to the icy water below. The Caped Crusader managed to get hold of his grappling line, and caught a frost-covered rock before he, himself, could fall any farther.

He and the Hattress looked to their right.

What appeared to be a giant glass bottle came into view, moving like a ship across the water. Inside it was visible a two-masted schooner, with six long, black cannons, each partially visible through holes in the side of the bottle, so that they could be used. Its bowsprit was carved in the shape of an eagles head, and its rudder resembled a lion's tail.

On its side were the words _H.M.S. Gryphon._

"Mock Turtle!" Alice called, and waved to the bottle.

A sliding patch of glass opened as the Ship-In-A-Bottle came up under them, and Alice let go and dropped down through it.

Batman followed suit.

At the helm of the schooner, he spotted the Mock Turtle.

He had the head of a bull, and the legs and tail of one, as well. His eyes were red and moist, and dark streaks covered his face, as if he'd been crying. He steered to boat with flipper-like arms, covered in green scales, and his body was that of a sea turtle. Stuck onto his shell was a navy badge, and he wore a black tricorn hat, with a yellow feather stuck in it, upon his cattle-esque head.

"Good to see you've come aboard, Alice," he said in a high-pitched, reedy voice. "Not that it'll matter…we're doomed, of course."

He sniffled.

Alice rolled her eyes.

"Is there that little hope?"

"Oh, there's an infinite amount of hope…just none for us. Those confounded beasts want my ship!"

"I think you're more to their tastes," Batman said flatly.

Mock Turtle stared, as if appalled by the idea, shaking his head fast.

"Never! We're almost relatives!"

"You're related to soup, Admiral…" muttered Alice.

"I have an idea!" Turtle said, ignoring her. "We'll dive, leave this mayhem, and head for the Deluded Depths!"

"Deluded Depths?"

"Think of it as Wonderland's Atlantis," purred Cheshire, appearing once again. "A city beneath the sea. But if you insist on heading there, consider this a farewell, if only temporary."

"Why?"

Cheshire rolled his eyes.

"I hate water," he said simply, and disappeared again.

_That smiling son of a …_

"Best dive now, Admiral!" called Alice as a Shipwreck Shark slammed into the glass, cracking it. "Before those sharks have us for lunch!"

The Mock Turtle nodded, and slammed a hoofed foot upon a button near the helm wheel.

The Shipwreck Shark pack snarled as the _H.M.S. Gryphon _sank beneath the waves.

Then they leaped (fancy, leaping in mid-air!) in after their prey.

"It didn't work!" moaned Turtle. "Man the cannons! We'll have to fight our way out of this stew!"


	26. Chapter 26

Notes: Track 34 added to soundtrack (on profile).

**Chapter 26: Slice-&-Dice**

Three figures stood on a rooftop in Crime Alley. One was garbed in purple, with night-vision goggles and a cat-eared mask. Another was dressed in red, yellow, and green, which starkly contrasted the black and blue third party, standing beside him.

"So, Leslie wanted to hide something, eh?" purred Catwoman.

"She won't tell us, but she might tell you…could be a clue to these 'Monster Men,'" Nightwing confirmed with a nod.

Catwoman grinned.

"She'll talk to me," she said.

"Um…would now be a bad time to say, 'Speak of the Devil?'" Robin asked. The Boy Wonder had been looking down upon Dr. Leslie Thompkins' house with interest, and he now gestured for his two companions to come closer.

Nightwing and Catwoman moved over and looked down.

A pair of bulky, gray-skinned figures were moving down the street…straight towards Dr. Thompkins' home.

Catwoman hissed softly in disgust.

"What are _those?"_

"Monster Men," replied Robin, and reached into his utility belt, handing a small injection gun to Nightwing. "You sure this'll work, Dick?"

"It better," replied Dick Grayson. "We have enough blood on our hands as it is."

"What's that do?" asked Selina Kyle.

"It's a little chemical I whipped up, using some of the blood from our last encounter, and some tranquilizers," Nightwing replied. "In theory, if we inject the Monster Men with this, they'll get knocked out, but the self-destruct compound in them will stop short of killing them; they'll simply revert back to children."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"Then Bruce won't be very happy with us at all…if and when we find him."

"Hey!" Robin exclaimed. "Look there! Coming up behind them!"

Nightwing looked down as instructed.

He glowered at the figure that trotted behind the ogre-esque beasts; it was a tall, muscular man, with blonde, crew cut hair, wearing nothing but a pair of red boxers and dark sunglasses. His eyes, barely visible, were a cool blue color. He had fair skin, and what might have been called a handsome complexion…were it not for the cruel, manic smile that tainted his lips. Even from here, the trio could clearly see the shallow, criss-crossing, tally mark-shaped scars that covered his arms, legs, and chest.

In one hand, he carried a Bowie knife.

"Zsasz," snarled Nightwing. "What's he doing here?"

Victor Zsasz, simply referred to as Mr. Zsasz by the mass media, was the truest definition of a psychopath; born in a wealthy family and spoiled as a child, Zsasz lived "the good life," yet had always felt incomplete. After running away from home at eighteen, he was mugged by a desperate man, wielding a knife. Zsasz killed the mugger in self-defense…and believed he had found purpose: life was pointless, so death was the goal.

Believed to be without a chance of salvation, Zsasz marked his kills by cutting a tally into his own flesh; he almost always used a knife…the same one the mugger who assaulted him had used.

Such was the Bowie knife he brandished now, sweeping it dramatically around his head. One of the Monster Men held up a leg and kicked down the door.

Dr. Leslie Thompkins scream was very sharp and clear.

Almost immediately, the trio on the roof leapt down to the street below.

Zsasz saw them and grinned.

"Well, well!" Zsasz greeted in an oily voice. "If it isn't the Bat-birds and Ms. Kitty!"

"Your taking no lives today Zsasz," Robin growled.

"I'll give you nine seconds before I scratch your face away," hissed Catwoman.

Zsasz laughed, and snapped his fingers, darting into the doctor's house. The two Monster Men roared and charged at the three. Moving simultaneously, all three managed to leap over the heads of the oncoming brutes, which slammed straight into a concrete wall, face first.

One of them bellowed in rage, short, stubby nose bleeding and broken. It launched a punch at Nightwing, who sidestepped it and fired the injection into the creature's arm.

The Monster Man fell face first to the ground. Groaning, it rolled onto its side.

The second beast approached, one eye scratched, bald scalp scraped and bloody. It held up its arms, fists clenched, and slammed them into the ground. The pavement buckled from the sheer force of the ogre's superhuman strength, and all three felt their legs quaver, dropping down onto their backs and losing their sense of balance.

The Monster Man let out a deep, hoarse, and almost comically brainless laugh, and grabbed Catwoman by one leg, taking the other in its other hand, intending to tear the nimble lady in half, right down the middle…

Something sharp caught in its arm, and it growled angrily, dropping her, the diamond-sharp claws of Selina Kyle's gloves leaving deep gashes even in its tough, gray skin.

Roaring in fury, the Monster Man raised up its foot to crush her…and then fell over backwards, silent, as an injection was fired into its neck.

All three watched as the two Monster Men swiftly began to change back into children. Their wounds seemed to heal as they shifted back into their true forms.

Cautiously, Nightwing touched the necks of both; they were both young boys.

He smirked.

"The formula's working just fine…for now."

_"Which is more than you'll say for the doctor!"_

The trio turned to the door.

Mr. Zsasz had returned.

And his blade was against the neck of Leslie Thompkins.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27: Mock Turtle Tears**

The "battle" on board the _H.M.S. Gryphon_ did not last long; the Shipwreck Sharks came in packs of three or more, and, while the wooden beasts could fly, they clearly preferred swimming, as there seemed to be more of them beneath the water than over. The diving Ship-in-a-Bottle caught a great deal of attention, and soon the Mock Turtle's ship was surrounded.

The cannons did their job, however; the battle seemed to be on the side of Batman and the Mock Turtle's crew (namely, Alice Liddell) as they dove, the blasts from the large, iron guns smashing the jetsam-built brutes to smithereens, sending their heads, tails, and wooden ribbing splintering and floating into the sea. What started as about twenty sharks dwindled quickly to fifteen, then ten…

As the last six sharks began to retreat, one very hungry beast remained, and bit a hole into the glass of the bottle with its iron teeth before following its comrades with a huffy sort of air.

Thus the _H.M.S. Gryphon_ sank, and crashed into the sea bottom of the Deluded Depths.

And so it was that Bruce Wayne awoke agitated, head spinning.

"Urgh…"

"Ooh…we descended much to quickly…damnable sharks…"

_"Ohh_…my ship's a wreck, and I am, too…!"

"Admiral's go down with their ships, Turtle."

Batman looked around, rubbing his head, looking around dizzily.

He gaped when he realized he was under water…and still breathing.

He stood up and tried to walk.

It was no different than if he was walking outside the water.

He moved his arms.

No resistance from pressure.

He touched at his face.

It felt damp.

_Only in Wonderland…_

"Ah! Batman!" called the Hattress, brushing some sea-bottom mud from the brim of her top hat and placing it atop her head. "You're up!"

"This is the Deluded Depths?"

"Outside of it," sobbed the Mock Turtle, who sat nearby, sniffling and snorting like a buffalo as he sobbed. "I couldn't even get the ship to port afore we crashed…_ohh-oh-ohh_…!"

"You can rebuild a ship," said Batman moving closer. "And, in any case, I don't remember you as a sailor at all."

"Right," Alice agreed, nodding, green eyes curious. "If memory serves, you were the director of the Looking-Glass Line."

Turtle's eyes blinked, and grew dark as he recalled. When he spoke, he seemed to be remembering times long gone, lost between the present and the past…

"Sacked from the railroad, I was," he sniffed. "No payment for services rendered, or whatnot. 'Your work has become redundant,' the nitwit Hare said. I never took a holiday…loyal as a bulldog… 'We're going in a different direction,' said Dormy. My Aunt Fanny…if I had one. Going off the rails, more like!"

Turtle's weeping increased.

"And…and n-now I'm shipless! The old railroad's dead, as is G-Gryphon! And this new thing's a m-m-m-monstrosity! It d-d-doesn't even run on time; I s-suspect the engineer's asleep at the switch…"

He glared fiercely at Alice and Batman. The raven-haired Hattress took a step back at the almost murderous look in her old friend's eyes.

"And what I don't know about it can't hurt me. Say no more! Change the subject! We avoid speaking about the thing what's name shouldn't be spoken."

Batman sighed softly.

"Hearing some useful information about this Infernal Train would be a nice change of pace…"

Turtle sniffled and turned away from him, eyes closed.

"You don't respect the sorrows of others…save your questions and smart remarks for the Cheshire Cat, why don't you?"

_If and when I see him again…_

"Look, Admiral, we're sorry, really," Alice intervened. "But we need to find out what we can. The Mad Hatter said you might be able to help us…please, if you know something about this Train, tell us."

"I'll just say that the Deluded Depths is currently the only place free of a certain contaminating corruption…count yourselves lucky to be down here!"

"I don't want to escape it," growled Batman. "I want to stop it."

Turtle bit his lip and shook his head, lowing like the bull he half-resembled.

_"Ohh-ohh…_nonsense! S-speak more nonsense! Diversions rule the day. The show must go on, and so on…"

Suddenly his eyes brightened, and he swam over to his wrecked ship. He pushed the battered door to the partially caved-in Captain's Quarters open, and the sound of his searching was clear before he swam back out, holding something in one flipper.

"Speaking of shows…"

"We weren't…"

"Here's a ticket to the Carpenter's new show. Use it; my ship is wrecked. Any opening night failure would be disastrous."

Batman noted the grim tone the last words were spoken in.

The meaning was clear; the Carpenter would – hopefully – know something.

The Dark Knight took the ticket. On it was the image of a fish's skeleton, and the words…

"'Totentanz?'" queried Alice.

"It's German, I think," Turtle said, and blew his nose into a handkerchief he had gotten from…somewhere.

"Yes," Batman said darkly. "It means 'Dance of Death.'"


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28: A Revealing Rescue**

"Stay where you are!" snapped Mr. Zsasz. "One false move, and I'll paint the alley red with her blood!"

"Let go of me!" screamed Dr. Thompkins, and a scarred, stiff hand covered her mouth. It was the first time Catwoman, Dick Grayson, or Tim Drake had ever seen her _really_ scared.

"Let her go, Zsasz," threatened Nightwing.

"But if I do, your Bat-friend will get me! Where is he, anyway?"

"Around," replied Robin vaguely. "Leave the doctor alone, Zsasz."

Zsasz giggled madly in response, and, much to the disgust of those watching, licked the doctor's cheek, wiping away a tear.

"Ooh…fear, salt…"

Selina Kyle and Nightwing shared a glance.

Zsasz was beginning to grow desperate in his speech; any second now, and he'd be slashing at anything he saw. Such was the way of the deranged murderer: already dangerous, but just inconceivably menacing once he went into "destroy" mode.

"I-I need to make the kill," Zsasz said, almost moaning. "I c-c-can't wait much longer…"

"Think about what you're doing, Victor!"

"I have, Ms. Kyle," replied Zsasz, grinning evilly. "He let me out so I could release this woman. He didn't have to ask twice; 'we all deserve to die,' as the song goes."

"'He?'" questioned Robin.

"Her soul is begging…I can hear it…it wants to be set free…"

The high-heeled shoe of Dr. Leslie Thompkins slammed down on the big toe of Victor Zsasz. There was a sharp cry, and the Bowie knife slipped, lowering. Dr. Thompkins wrestled away from the madman, and hurried back into her house.

Before Zsasz could follow, a whip wrapped around his arm and tugged him to the ground. His sunglasses fell from his brow and shattered, and his knife clattered beside him as his face met the pavement.

He began to rise, nose broken and bleeding, forehead scraped, when a black boot slammed into his chest.

Zsasz groaned, and fell flat on his back, out cold.

"Cat and I will check on Leslie," said Nightwing to Robin. "You tie up Zsasz."

Robin rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure…leave me behind with the wacky-man…"

Nightwing tentatively entered the house first…

A shotgun blast ripped apart the wall behind his head.

"Stay back!"

"Leslie, it's me!"

Dr. Thompkins, face still stained from tears, bathed in sweat, sighed and lowered the gun.

"Oh, thank God…is he…?"

"Zsasz won't be a problem," said Catwoman, entering with equal caution. "How are you, Leslie?"

"Selina. Long time, no see," said Thompkins, still panting from the terrifying experience. "If you are involved, things must be more serious than I previously thought."

"Zsasz didn't just choose you at random, he was told to kill you. Someone bailed him out of Arkham with that intent."

Leslie squirmed uncomfortably.

"Wh-who'd want me dead?"

"I was hoping you'd answer that."

"And if you won't talk to him, talk to me."

Leslie Thompkins eyed both of the younger people before her, and sighed.

"What I told you was true; Hugo Strange and I have almost nothing to do with each other. But the professor and Bruce Wayne are another story; as an intern nurse, I worked for a psychiatrist, named Dr. Mockett. I'll bet you can guess who his most commonly seen patient was."

Nightwing's eyes widened.

"Strange was in therapy when he was in college?"

"Strange was orphaned at a young age, not unlike Bruce, and spent a good portion of his childhood on the streets before being sent to an orphanage at the age of ten. He was never adopted. When he came to the university, he was far from the favored student. He was a bright guy, all right, but he had a heck of a temper. Don't ask me how anyone put up with him in medical school…"

"Anger management?"

"Possibly," said Leslie, rolling her eyes, and plopping down in a chair, which bore a deep slash in the upholstery; judging from that, and a fallen vase and painting, it was clear Zsasz had given her a merry chase before finally cornering her. "At any rate, I never saw him at these same sessions, but, as a nurse, I got to look at his medical records: nasty temperament was only the tip of the iceberg. He apparently suffered from a certain degree – I don't know how high – of OC. He was obsessively compulsed with anything he worked on…"

Here she looked Dick Grayson in the eye with a dark glare.

"Or anyone he fancied."

"What does this have to do with Bruce?"

The doctor bit her lip.

"Let's just say that Martha Wayne was somebody Hugo Strange fancied."

"Aha!" said Tim, walking in just then. "So that's why you and Alf really wanted Bruce to stay with you!"

"Yes. I didn't trust him in the slightest, having seen his records, and, as Martha's friend, I knew all about his…affections."

"Do you think he had something to do with…that night?" asked Catwoman quietly.

Dr. Thompkins let out a wry chuckle.

"I can't answer that one. But maybe Jim can…"

"Jim? Commissioner Gordon?" Robin asked.

"He was a captain at the time; he oversaw the whole case. And we all know about he and Bruce's 'partnership,' don't we?"

"We also know he's been trying to send me to Blackgate for years now," Catwoman flatly stated.

"Don't fret, Cat," smiled Nightwing. "We'll just say you're in our custody."

Selina Kyle smirked.

"The day that becomes reality will be a most intriguing one, Bird-boy."


	29. Chapter 29

Notes: Three new tracks added: Track 22, Track 27, and Track 31. Also, for those who haven't played the game, the Carpenter's constant grammar errors in his speech are intentional.

**Chapter 29: The Walrus and the Carpenter**

Alice led the way through the Deluded Depths. The underwater city reminded Batman of the dockyard village of Old Gotham, mixed with a fishing port from Victorian-age England.

Both appropriate, all things considered.

Soon they came up to a large building, over the door of which was a sign reading "The Dreary Lane Theatre."

"This is the Carpenter's place," said the Hattress. "His plays are all-the-rage here in the Deluded Depths. The Walrus is his business partner. How that blob of blubber can act at all, I shall never know…"

Batman pushed open the door. The theater was like any other. The footlights on the stage were rimmed in what looked like seashells, while the chairs were covered in what appeared to be barnacles, while the curtains were tattered and, when closed, formed the image of a shark's head.

On the stage, Batman spotted a simply immense Walrus, its brown, blubber-lined hide spilling out onto the floor of the stage. Its ivory tusks were enscribed with hieroglyphs, and the right tusk was broken in half. It wore a black and yellow striped beanie, topped with a red pom-pom, upon its enormous head, and appeared to be sleeping, blowing bubbles past its flabby lips as it snored audibly.

Nearby was a man who was the polar opposite of the Walrus; tall, thin, and gangly, he wore a tattered black cape, fastened with a brooch in the shape of a lobster. He was shirtless, wearing gray pinstriped overalls, and black boots that were covered in mud, no doubt from walking so often on the sea floor, along with a workman's tool belt and apron. He had a peg leg, covered in what seemed to be snail shells, and his hands were tattooed with images of eyes. His arms bore even more tattoos, in the shape of fish bones. His face was gaunt, his nose long and crooked. He had wavy red hair, stood up into spikes on one side, and a red goatee that tipped his chin. He wore a pencil behind one ear, and both ears were pierced with earrings in the shape of fish bones. His eyes were a dull gray color. He carried a cane, topped with an ornament in the shape of a hammer's head, which was inscribed with the symbol of Neptune, in one hand.

No doubt that this was the Carpenter.

The Carpenter did not notice Batman, nor Alice, at first; he was grumbling to himself as he watched a pair of crabs, each smoking a large cigar, working on the stage backdrop, which depicted a cemetery at night.

"Easy, men!" he said, his voice booming as he addressed them. "Don't tear it! Everything must be perfectical!"

"Carpenter!" called the Hattress.

The lanky showman turned fast, looking quite alarmed. After a moment, he smiled.

"Ah! Alice!" he laughed, bowing deeply, swirling his cape in an almost vampiric way as he did so. "Delighted to see you again, my dear girl! Your arrival is filled with fortunatality itself!"

Here he took the Hattress' hand and kissed it gently. As he stood, he cast his eyes upon the Dark Knight.

His boisterous, gleeful persona did not disappear, much to the dismay of the Caped Crusader.

"And you must be Mr. Wayne! Overjoyfulized to meet you, sir!"

He held out a hand in greeting.

The Dark Knight did not take it.

After a short moment, the Carpenter took the hint, and, clearing his throat nervously, retracted the appendage.

"Yes, well…at any rate, I'm quite glad you two of showed up!"

"And I'm glad to have found you," said the Dark Knight.

"Carpenter," began Alice, "we need to know…"

"My impregnated show," Carpenter interrupted, "is about to pop, you know! It requires only a mindicament of your helpfulocity!"

"I…er…"

"We aren't theater workers," said Batman. "But we do need to reconstruct…"

"Reconstruction! Well, I AM a carpenter…although the stage is so much more appealerating to me…"

"There's an Infernal Train trying to destroy Wonderland," Batman rapped, before the impresario could rant on, "and I'm trying to learn more about it. Can you tell me anything useful?"

Carpenter's skin blanched for about a second. The Dark Knight noticed he cast a troubled glance back at the Walrus.

"Well…er…I know a bit…"

Suddenly, he was bright and chipper once more.

"And it's a most viciotatious thing, I dare say! However, suppose we attend to more pressing matters: namely, my play. Due to a large, hysterical foul-up, some of the show's requisites need to be gathered for the dress rehearsal tonight. You are invited to watch the rehearsal as well; the actual show will be on tomorrow, so this is, in essence, a preview. A few choice theater-goers have already requesterated seats, but I'll gladly make room for you!"

"I don't want to see your show, I want to find out about the Train."

"Carpenter, if we help you, will you tell us what you know!"

"Certainly! Now, here's the list of items required," began the showman, counting them off on his fingers, "first, the mungnificent script needs fetching…the writer's overly imaginative and exploring several endings. Then you shall to assemble the show's tune-deaf music. And, finally, gather our stars! The show's tasty…er, I mean, _tasteful,_ performers."

"You don't have script? You don't have music? You don't even have performers?" Alice gasped.

"You aren't ready at all."

"It isn't my fault! I haven't had time, and the Walrus is a lazy bum!" sniffed the Carpenter petulantly. "An impresario has arrangements to attend to at all times! Ducks in a row, fish to fry, calls to Newcastle, et cetera, et cetera! Fetch me the script, the music, and the actors, and then we can platter, or batter, or natter, as the case may be!"

Batman groaned softly.

_Everybody here wants something for nothing…reminds me of Arkham…_

"Fine. Where can I find the writer?"

"He's an octopus. Usually stays over at Barrelbottom, the local tavern. It's over that way," replied the Carpenter, pointing off to the left with his hammer-headed cane.

"Is the writer troublesome?" asked Alice Liddell, clearly hoping the answer would be no.

"To a personage of your distinguished reprudiation? I blush at the nationality!"

Alice sighed.

"So he is."

Carpenter smiled meekly.

"I've been trying to get some form of cooperationtation from him, but I am always met with hostilitness. Anyway, you should be leaving now! The essentiality of haste is essential! Ta-ta!"

And the Carpenter turned his back on them and continued to oversee the work on the stage.

Batman and Alice looked at each other and then exited the theatre.

"Do people here always do things like this?" muttered Batman.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," replied Alice dismally.

The Carpenter sighed as the door shut behind them.

"Excellent save, friend," said the Walrus; he had only been pretending to sleep.

Carpenter shuddered as he faced the blubbery beast, who gazed at the door with large, bloodshot eyes.

"Well," said the Walrus in his thick voice, "it seems our dinner theater will have some real meat, eh, Carpenter?"

The Carpenter gulped.

"Must we continue, Walrus?"

"Do you want the Train to come through here?" replied the beast with a dark smile.

"No," sighed Carpenter.

"Then, yes, man, we must continue."

Carpenter nodded sadly and turned his gaze once more to the backdrop.

_Alice,_ he thought, _don't overstay your welcomeness._

The Batman didn't matter. Only the girl did.

He'd dealt with enough heroes.


	30. Chapter 30

Notes: We are halfway finished! Also, I'm not sure what _truaillidh móran _means, but the phrase is Gaelic. This is all…for now…

**Chapter 30: The Hunting of the…Octopus?**

Barrelbottom was unlike any sort of tavern Batman had seen. Oh, true, the exterior was normal enough, with two crabs – each bearing an old fashioned ship's cannon for a right arm – guarding the entrance, their disgusting, frothy mandibles holding fat, black cigars. (The Cannon Crabs had been…reluctant to allow Alice and Batman entrance, but a bat-o-rang in each of their remaining claws and a verse from _The Lobster Quadrille_ from the Vorpal Blade-wielding Hattress was all it took to change their minds.) But the interior was completely different than what the Dark Knight had expected: the seats, tables, and indeed the bar itself, all seemed to be made from empty jugs of ale, stacked in varying assortments. Giant bottles (all emptied) of beer lined the place, and formed a path to the backroom. Wine barrels and kegs were stacked on the walls, and a pair of champagne bottles, dressed up as statues in bridal gowns and tuxedos, stood upon a pedestal, made from the broken-off bottom of another, larger bottle, were in one corner, acting as fountains for…you guessed it, champagne.

Batman breathed in and coughed. Alice Liddell held her nose and grimaced.

"Ugh…smells like a ripe distillery, mixed with vomit and phosphorous…"

"Tha's the scent o' unrecognized genius. Now, buzz off!"

The thick, slurred voice caught the attention of the duo.

A lone customer occupied Barrelbottom, seated at the bar: a pink octopus, slightly bloated in appearance. He wore a battered black top hat upon his head, his eyes were wide and bloodshot. He had a humanoid face, with the teeth in his mouth resembling the beaks of "normal" octopuses, a bulbous pink nose, with warts, and thick, white eyebrows (the only hair he had…though, by all rights, he should not have had ANY.) One of his tentacles held a beer bottle, while a second was draped lazily on the bar, and the other six, like legs, hung from the barstool and spilled onto the floor.

"Carpenter sent us," Batman said, cutting straight to the business.

The Octopus snorted disdainfully.

"Sure, Mr. Wayne, and th' Carpenter – jus' fer starters – is a pusillanimous, parsimonious, pettyfoggin' moron."

"Be that is it may," said Alice, patiently. "We need the script he told us you were going to write."

"Yer needs are shite!" snapped the Octopus, rising up and floating in the "air" (they were underwater, but Wonderland's "wonders" sometimes made the Caped Crusader forget this) as he spoke, slamming his bottle onto the floor, smashing it. "I need a drink! 'Oo cares? There's no joy left in this wurld now, ye know. I need to know wha' luv is! The world is mum! Jus' now, I need a dose of…hide-&-seek!"

There was silence.

"…Hide-&-Seek? Really?"

"Aye. I haven't played th' game since I was but a wee octo-pup. Fin' me thrice, ye _truaillidh móran_ an' ye pretty, fair maid," sneered the Octopus, the last three words spoken in a sarcastic slur. "If ye are quick about it, we can deal."

And away the cephalopod rocketed, a blast of ink blinding the two, before either of them could grab hold of him.

Chuckling, the Octopus jetted into the back room and dove headfirst into a gigantic, empty ale jug.

For a few minutes, he floated, absolutely still.

"Hello!"

He looked up in surprise.

The Hattress lounged above him on a rack of dusty (or, in the Deluded Depths, muddy) bottles, and tipped her hat with a smirk.

Octopus frowned.

"Caught me, eh? Well, don' rest on yer barrels! Bye-bye!"

And he jetted off, this time leaving Barrelbottom.

He rounded a curve, jetting over the top of a house where a repairman, who looked like a trout, was trying to fix a broken shingle, and nearly knocked the poor fish over. He then dove headlong into a trash can and slammed the lid shut.

He grinned to himself.

_They'll ne'er fin' me here...faith, no, they won't..._

Suddenly, the trash can began to shake, and the octopus yelped as it tipped over, the pink boneless beast flopping out, covered in algae and debris.

Batman stood over him. The Hattress crouched above him on the roof.

"Strike two."

"Aye, ye 'ave me now...but you won't 'ave me again!"

The Octopus slapped the Caped Crusader with a fat pink tentacle and raced away. He made three sharp curves, slipped through a fence, jetted through a house, going in one window and out another, causing the occupants to cry out in fright, for they were bathing (why fish would bathe, only heaven knows), and then spun and flipped as he zipped over the top of a building...and vanished from sight.

Batman and Alice quickly followed him, having seen everything.

To their dismay, when they got to the other side of the building, they found they were back at Barrelbottom, at the back end of the building, where seven old, empty wine flasks were set up in a row.

"Where am I?" sing-songed the Octopus, although neither of them could tell which bottle he was in.

For a moment they looked at the bottles, trying to figure it out...

"There," said Batman, pointing to the second bottle from the center, on the right-hand side. "See the ink leading into it, still?"  
>Alice nodded, and flung a handful of her Jacks O' Death at the flask. The sharpened metal objects stuck fast in the thick glass.<p>

"Eek!" shrieked the Octopus from within. "All righ', all righ', I give in! I'm fair caught, so I am!"

He floated up and out.

"Ye're good sports," he said, in a placating tone, holding up two tentacles like hands. "Jus' a game...diversion's necessary in all this madness, ye know...nobody needs to die now..."

"Then give us the script," snapped Alice, running a gloved finger along the edge of her Vorpal Blade. "We have work to do, and obligation must come before diversion."

Octopus glared.

"Then ye really think th' Carpenter's going to help ye, do ye?"

"He said he would."

The Octopus sighed, forming bubbles in the water.

"Sure, an' it's a sad price ye'll be payin' for what ye think be the truth...join me in the library. Unlike sum, I don' welsh after me break is already finished."

The two watched him jet away again, and exhaled, following the ink cloud he left in his wake.

"He seems awfully distrusting," mumbled Alice.

"Maybe a little too much," Batman whispered.

Alice turned to him, one eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean?"

"When we spoke to Carpenter, did you notice how nervous he seemed when we spoke of the Train?"

"It's out to destroy Wonderland," Alice said, as if that was all the explanation needed. (And it might have been so.)

"I know, but the Hare and the Dormouse were still testing it until I arrived at the Mad Hatter's Domain, remember?"

Alice's eyes widened.

"So he must have known about it much earlier...and so must have Turtle! He knew about it, too, if you recall!"

"Precisely; my control of Wonderland allows certain denizens to know who I am automatically...at least, Cheshire's told me so..."

"I guessed that."

"But the Infernal Train is partly the work of an outside force. How can Carpenter and Turtle know?"

"He also seemed to be nervous around Walrus, his own partner for who-knows-how-long...I wonder why."

Batman nodded.

"Well," Alice said after a moment. "We'd better get to the Octopus' library. We won't learn anything by standing around. As the cat once said to me, 'haste may make waste, but slow will get you nowhere fast.'"

Batman rolled his eyes.

"It figures he'd be absent when we need him most," he grumbled.

Alice smirked.

"We're underwater, Mr. Wayne. Cheshire's an extraordinary feline, but he is a feline, nonetheless."

Batman said nothing.

"Besides," Alice thought to add, "even if he did know the answers – which he usually does – I doubt he'd give them to us."

Batman snorted.

"You're telling me..."


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31: Dissonance**

After retrieving the script from the Octopus, Batman and the Hattress were directed to the studio of the Music Fish, who would be in charge of the orchestra. The Music Fish's studio was a bare, arena-like area with several tunnels jutting out, located inside a sea cave. Large glass pipes came out from the tunnels, and met to form a glass funnel at the top of the room, like a bizarre chandelier.

The Music Fish himself was swimming in fast circles around the area. He had the eyes and scaly fins of a blue fish...but his body was made out of what looked like an enormous glass bottle. The fins and eyes were stuck directly onto the bottle. In place of scales around his middle, he wore a blue wool sweater, which gave a somewhat "soft-scaled" appearance.

The Music Fish quickly noticed the two. He couldn't smile, as he had no lips, but his eyes glittered happily.

_"Oh, marvelous!"_ he sang out (the queer fish never spoke, but sang whenever he uttered a word). _"Visitors to my humble abode! How do you do, how do you do..."_

_ "And how do you do again?"_ finished Alice, quoting the old rhyme.

"Are you the composer of _Totentanz?_" asked Batman.

_"Aha! You must be Mr. Wayne! Yes, indeed! The Music Fish, that's me!"_

Batman paused.

"You don't seem particularly musical just now...I can't hear any music, aside from your own voice."

The Music Fish sighed dismally. (A strange feat, as he had no visible lungs.)

_"It's not my fault,"_ he whined, his voice a dirge. _"The orchestra is set in the tunnels, all ready to play...but something has obstructed the pipes. I can't hear the notes!"_

"Couldn't you unblock them?"

_"And endanger my vocal chords?" _the Music Fish twanged, aghast.

All went silent for but a moment.

_"...You might do it for me..."_

The Dark Knight groaned.

"Always something," he grumbled. "Very well...what can I do to help?"

_"If you take the center tunnel of these three,"_ sang the Fish, pointing with one blue fin at the tunnel in question, _"you can repair any damages to that path's instrument. There are two more tunnels there, which will lead you down the paths to the remaining two as a shortcut. Take care!"_

"Obviously," muttered Alice Liddell, and the two headed down the tunnel.

The first instrument was a set of drums, which were operated by what appeared to be the legs of a doll, which held the drumsticks between its toes and kicked to beat them.

The obstruction of the pipes was soon spotted, and Batman pulled a pair of bat-o-rangs from his belt, while Alice whipped out her Vorpal Blade: a pair of Ruins, their bodies mere balls of hardened tar, which moved by flapping four rubbery doll arms like the tentacles of jellyfish, making garbled growls as their eyeless doll faces glared menacingly at the intruders. They had spat balls of tar at the pipes, causing them to be stopped up.

These were Drifting Ruins.

Batman tossed both bat-o-rangs at the Drifting Ruins. One of them met its mark, shattering the doll head, but the second Ruin moved swiftly aside, and then spat a ball of tar at Batman, who leapt away as the ball of tar hit the ground and exploded like a bombshell.

Alice jumped up at the Drifting Ruin and plunged her chef's knife deep into the mask-like head of the beast, which hissed, blackened bubbles billowing around it as it cried out in pain and sank down in death.

Batman jumped on top of the pipe. He stuck an explosive capsule into the obstructing tar, and the blast sent Ruin splattering everywhere.

Far down the tunnel from whence they came, the Music Fish heard the notes of the kettle drums loud and clear.

_"Bravo!"_ he sang out, clapping his flippers in glee. _"More, more!"_

The second instrument was actually an arrangement of several brass instruments – horns, trumpets, and a tuba – which were worked by bellows and levers that pressed the dials and buttons to make the sounds.

Two more Drifting Ruins were here, and they immediately spat out glob after glob of disgusting black tar at the pair. Batman and the Hattress dodged this way and that. Alice pulled a Clockwork Bomb out of her apron pocket, and tossed it upwards. The blast shattered the faces of both Ruins, which, needless to say, allowed for them to clear out the second pipe.

Alice and Batman raced down into third and final cave, where the last part of the orchestra lay. The final piece was made from the corpse of a sea spider, which was shocked with electricity, causing its legs to twitch...and slide across the strings of a trio of violins. The morbid violin-player was guarded by another pair of Drifting Ruins. This time it was the Ruins that went on the defensive, as a pair of bat-o-rangs and a handful of sharpened jacks flew at them.

One of the Ruins spat out a large blob of tar, and Alice cried out as the disgusting mass pinned her to the ground. The tar hardened, and Alice used her one free hand – still clutching her blade – to try and get herself out.

Like a cuttlefish, the Ruin laughed darkly and jetted forward...but was intercepted by a cloud of tear gas. Blinded, the Ruin briefly paused, and then continued forward...

To its frustration, its prey had managed to loose herself from the trap.

A silver blade spun toward the Ruin out of the choking mist, and it knew no more.

The second Ruin was quickly dispatched as it stuck out a rubbery, black-coated tongue in tease, giggling like a demented child...and received a bat-o-rang in the face.

The last pipe was unobstructed, and Batman and the Hattress returned to the Music Fish.

The Fish was laughing, its voice gay and lovely, dancing (very badly) to the music it heard.

_"Excellent!"_ it cried out. _"I assure you, the audience will be grateful for your efforts!"_

_ I somehow doubt that,_ Batman thought darkly.

_"The perfomers and their own efforts will be advanced by my musical score!" _sang the glass fish. _"Please wake them with this exciting news!"_

"Where can we find them?" Alice asked.

_"The Oyster Starlets are at the Bed,"_ said the Music Fish, and banged himself against an old wooden door, which fell open. He pointed down the tunnel it led to with one fin. _"Some fish can sing, but not all...Carpenter rarely hires the proper talent..."_

Batman and Alice Liddell exchanged a quick glance, and went off in search of the Starlets.

The Fish sighed as he watched them go.

_"Poor dears,"_ he sang to himself. _"So helpful...may God have mercy on their souls..."_


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32: Four Young Oysters...**

Batman wasn't sure whether to be frustrated or relieved with what he found in the quarters of the Oyster Starlets, the dancers for the Carpenter's show, _Totentanz._ While Ruins had plagued him while he and Alice Liddell, the Hattress, assisted the Music Fish, Carpenter's composer, and the Octopus, Carpenter's playwright, had been reluctant to give any aid at all, and led them on a wild cephalopod chase, the Starlets were...asleep.

All peacefully asleep.

There were three beds, arranged in a semicircle, all set up in a circular chamber in a cavern, decorated like an inn, with decorative lamps and those over-Impressionistic paintings of flowers one always sees in a hotel. The bright red shells of the Oysters were shut tight, and soft, whispery snores came from them, bubbles pouring out from the cracks where the shells shut.

Batman and the Hattress shared a glance.

"Oyster Beds...how ironic," smirked Alice.

Batman just sighed and almost carelessly kicked over a desk near him.

Alice flinched from the crash that came from it, and it can be assured the sound awoke the three Oysters.

Yawning in chorus, the shells opened up, revealing three formless, apricot-colored blobs of pure muscle. Slowly, sickeningly, the blobs began to lengthen out, small, tentacle like protrusions sprouting from them. The tops of the rod-shaped muscles rounded out, and spread out like a fan. Batman could now plainly see that each of the Starlets wore black, curly wigs with bangs, and had red-painted lips. Thin, muscular eyelids opened up...revealing pearls in the place of eyes.

As the bodies of the Oysters – their shells worn lengthwise – fully took shape, the "tentacles" becoming stick-like legs that had no visible feet, and arms that ended in mitten like hands, they were both childish and mentally disturbing to look at.

The Oysters smiled sleepily.

"You've just interrupted our dreams," yawned one, in the bed farthest to Batman's right.

"A tragedy, I'm sure," Alice snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"The Carpenter is waiting at the Theater," Batman said.

"Oh, well," sighed the Oyster farthest to the left, her high, soprano voice the exact same pitch and tone and accent as the first. "Off to the show, I suppose...come along, ladies!"

The two Oysters walked out through a side door of the cave, the third following close behind.

"Well, that was easy," chuckled Alice. "Mission accomplished."

"Somehow, I don't think things will be as simple as you're making it seem..."

"Oh? What makes you think that?"

"They never are. Especially here."

"Oh!" cried the third Starlet, slapping her forehead. "I forgot to tell you: we still need the Star of the show! She's up there," she added, pointing toward a ramp, which lead to a door with the image of a trident painted on it, "taking her own nap. Please awaken her!"

And she was gone.

Batman and Alice went over to the ramp.

They were halfway up when a loud thud and a sharp, shrill scream came from the Star's room.

Batman whipped out a bat-o-rang.

"Told you so," he growled, and dashed to the door. He tried the handle...of course, it was locked.

THASHK!

The Dark Knight kicked down the door. Alice stood just behind him, Vorpal Blade held ready in one hand, another hand clutching a handful of Jacks and a ball.

The Star's room was destroyed, the light fixture smashed, her bed overturned. She resembled her fellow Starlets, right down to the pearly eyes, but had a braided, blonde wig and a sky blue shell, rather than black with bangs and scarlet. She cowered in the corner, a Drifting Ruin floating over her.

"HELP ME!" she screamed.

Alice took the initiative, flinging the Jacks, and their ball, in the Ruin's direction. The ball thunked the Ruin right in its mask-like face as it turned to hiss at them. The Jacks O' Death jumped up, scratching and sinking their metal points into the tar, plastic, and porcelain of the creature, the Ball bouncing up and down continuously as if possessed by a poltergeist. The Ruin tried to move away, but the ball followed it, the Jacks doing the same, like homing missiles.

"Come on," snarled Batman, grabbing the blue-shelled oyster by the "hand," and whisking her out of the room.

As they descended the ramp, Batman handed the Star into Alice's care.

"Will that attack get rid of it?"

"No," Alice said grimly, shaking her head, green eyes flaming in the shadow of her top hat. "It will only slow it down...and, most likely, REALLY tick it off."

"I'll take care of it. You take the Star back to the Dreary Lane Theatre."

Alice nodded.

"Thank you so much," panted the Star Oyster gratefully, and she and the Hattress raced out through the side exit, which shut behind them.

At that moment, a ball of tar flew toward Batman, who turned and dodged it just in time. He held his bat-o-rang ready and faced his opponent.

Or, rather, _opponents_: somehow the Drifting Ruin that had attacked the Star – distinguishable by the Jacks imbedded in the tar where its eye sockets were and also the softer plastic of its four waving arms – had called for help: two more Ruins flanked it. One of the newer Ruins jetted towards Batman, roaring in rage. In one fluid motion, the Caped Crusader aimed and threw the bat-o-rang already in his hand, easily shattering the beast's porcelain face. It instantly melted into nothingness.

The second of the reinforcements came up, spitting out another ball of tar. Batman nimbly jumped to one side...but a bit of tar caught him on the arm, and instantly hardened, trapping his hand. Unable to shake it off, the temporarily distracted Dark Knight ducked hastily as it "flew" at him. He hit the ground, reaching into his belt and grabbing another bat-o-rang. As the Ruin turned, he tossed it upwards, and finished it off.

Now only the wounded Ruin was left. Desperate and angry, it screamed toward the Dark Knight. Fast as lightning, Batman rose to his feet, rearing back his tar-trapped fist...

And so two birds were killed with one stone: both the hardened tar around Batman's hand and the porcelain mask of the Ruin were quickly shattered.

Brushing away some black dust (how dust could exist _as dust_ underwater, Batman didn't even bother trying to figure out) that still lingered on his arm, the Dark Knight briefly examined his work, and then left through the side exit without uttering a word.

_That idiot of an impresario better have some good information for me..._


	33. Chapter 33

Notes: I just want to point something out right now: writing the Gotham City scenes are HARD. Please, be nice! Now, without further ado...

**Chapter 33: Old Wounds Reopened**

Police Commissioner Jim Gordon stood quietly on the rooftop of the Gotham City Police Department Headquarters Building, peering out over night-shaded city behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

The G.C.P.D. Headquarters was an impressive, three story structure with an appearance that more closely resembled a city politician's office building, with ornate columns outside the front door, and gargoyles perched from the balconies of the second story.

A bright yellow spotlight shone in the sky, split through its center by the stylized image of a bat in flight, its light catching a cloud in the sky. This was the Bat Signal, the G.C.P.D.'s alert system for Batman.

Gordon chuckled to himself; usually, of course, the Signal WAS used as such: a way of getting contact with the Bat.

Tonight, it was different: one of the Bat's pals – Robin – had called him from a pay phone and told him to meet him and two others on the roof, and to shine the signal so that they would know he was there.

Beside Commissioner Gordon stood Chief Harvey Bullock, quietly munching on a cherry-frosting doughnut. Essentially Gordon's right-hand-man, Bullock didn't look like much at first glance: with his stocky frame, pot-belly, crooked nose, small, black eyes, greasy hair, and gruff manner, coupled with the fact he was always either chewing on some form of junk food or else smoking a thick, filthy-smelling cigar, Bullock made most crooks (and people, in general) in Gotham laugh out loud or crinkle their nose in disgust. But, as many a criminal had found out, Harvey Bullock's keen detective mind more than made up for his shabby appearance. He was equally skilled in fisticuffs, and a crack shot with almost any handgun. While his perpetual outfit of a black suit, covered by a dark trenchcoat and fedora, might have made him pass as a crooked cop straight from a B-grade noir-styled detective film from cinema days past, Bullock was unceasingly loyal to the police force...and was one of the few officers who actively disliked Batman's involvement in crime fighting in Gotham City.

"What's the time, Bullock?" Gordon asked, taking a sip of the coffee in his hand, the quickly-cooling liquid lapping at the gray hairs of his bushy moustache. He, like Bullock, wore a trenchcoat over his usual uniform.

Bullock looked at his watched, let out a soft burp, and wiped some crumbs from his lips.

"Just now midnight, Commissioner...seriously, ya'd think that the Bat would be on time after callin' us here..."

"He won't be coming."

Both policemen turned fast, Bullock reaching for his gun.

Standing there, both of them with their arms crossed, were Nightwing and Robin, Batman's primary assistants.

And, between them, much to the officers' surprise, was none other than the mysterious Catwoman herself...handcuffed.

Gordon looked her up and down.

"This why you called us?" he asked mildly; Batman and his "friends" surprised him so often, he found it difficult now to be surprised for very long.

"No," said Nightwing. "She's helping us...under custody, naturally."

"Oh, yes. _Naturally,_" sneered Bullock; he had not released his gun.

"Chief, at ease," snapped Gordon. Bullock glanced at him quickly, and relaxed slightly, releasing his hand from his firearm.

"Helping with what?"

"It's the boss," said Robin, smirking at the nickname. "Batman's gone missing."

Gordon blinked. So did Bullock, only the larger man's jaw fell open, revealing bits of unchewed doughnut still stuck between his teeth.

"Missing?"

"Yes, missing. Is there an echo in here?"

"But...how?"

"That's just what Cat here is helping us with; her placement on the other side of the law..."

Bullock muttered something along the lines of, "you'd know all about that," but fell silent at the Commissioner's glare.

"...May prove valuable to us."

"And how can I help?" asked Gordon, seriously; far from mere allies, the Commissioner and the Bat were friends. Even though some of the most loyal of his men questioned his allegiance – present company included – to the "semi-vigilante" (his actions were approved by Gordon, and obviously he was often called on for help with certain cases, but he was far from being a full-fledged, deputized law agent), Gordon would trust the masked man with his life. As the Bat had saved it so often before, it seemed only fair he try to figure out where he had disappeared to.

Of course, vanishing was Batman's trademark, but when his own helpers didn't know where he had gone...

"We've found a...connection between Batman and Dr. Leslie Thompkins?"

"Thompkins?" Gordon asked, the name immediately ringing a bell.

"Yes. She's...reluctant to tell us all that she knows," Catwoman put in, "but she said to check in with you about two things."

"Oh, yeah?" Bullock snarled, suspiciously. "And what'd that be?"

"First," Nightwing said, "the case of the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne."

"I remember it," Gordon said solemnly. "What do you need to know?"

"Well, all that connects to second thing: a name."

"What name?"

All three masked people looked at each other before Robin answered.

"Hugo Strange."

Gordon's eyes briefly widened, then narrowed into a glare.

"That name is also familiar," he said with a nod. "Bullock?"

"Yeah, Commissioner?"

"Your dismissed. Rest up."

Bullock nodded, casting a suspicious glare at the three, then left; he knew by now arguing about leaving a well-known thief in the hands of two vigilantes – vigilantes who were younger than the thief herself, no less – would be a hopeless cause.

Once Bullock was out of earshot, Gordon began.

"Hugo Strange...he's the professor and head of the Wayne Home for Wayward Youth, right?"

"Right. He was the last person to see Batman before he disappeared."

"Why would Strange see him?" asked Gordon, truly curious.

"Questioning," Catwoman quickly explained. "Apparently Jonathan Crane was a former student of Strange."

The Commissioner eyed her doubtfully, then shrugged.

"I know you people well enough," he said. "I can tell you're not giving me all I need to know...but, frankly, I'm used to it. Regarding the murder: I was just a captain at the time. Martha Wayne, the wife and mother, was killed by a single shot to the head, a shot that went straight through the skull and actually split her brain down the middle. Thomas was killed by a shot to the chest; it went right through his heart."

"Is that important?" asked Robin.

"It should be," Nightwing said simply. "Shots like that are the result of one of two things: one, expertise. Two, sheer dumb luck."

"The suspect for the murder was Joe Chill; Bruce survived...you know Bruce Wayne, of course?"

"Duh," was all Catwoman said, smiling coyly. The Commissioner just scowled at her and continued.

"Well, he was just a kid...poor guy. I talk with him often...tells me he still has nightmares about that night. As the only witness, he told us all he could remember was a pistol with a short nose and that the killer wore a newsboy cap and a tweed jacket. Chill was wearing the same jacket; it was even stained with blood. In his pocket was the pistol."

The Commissioner paused.

"At the trial, it was a no brainer: obviously, Chill had to be guilty. He was a desperate man, with mafia connections – actually the cause of his poverty – and he had a gun. He was also a frequent occupant of Crime Alley. The fact that he was literally wearing the evidence helped too. He was sentenced to life imprisonment, but less than six weeks later, he died in jail from pneumonia. Caught it in the rain prior to his capture."

Gordon bit his lip.

"What does all this have to do with the good professor?" asked Catwoman, the last two words carrying a bitter hiss as she spoke.

"Strange tried to gain custody of young Bruce...didn't work out."

"Dr. Thompkins told us that."

Gordon shook his head.

"That's not the only thing that's funny: first of all, at the trial, Chill's defense stated he had not been anywhere near Crime Alley when the killings happened. He HAD committed a crime, yes, but not murder: he had stolen a breakfast sandwich from a convenience store, several blocks away. Chill claimed he had found the jacket in a trash can; he figured it was warmer than what he was wearing, so who cared about the blood?"

"Let me guess: he didn't bother to check the pockets, either?"

Gordon chuckled dryly.

"Of course, no one believed that, including me. But...something about the way he said it at the trial...his eyes so intense, so fearful...bugged me, I guess. I went searching. I asked questions..."

"What did you find out?"

"Well, first of all, that Chill had told the truth: I checked security cameras. The store was set up for a permanent closing, and I just managed to get them. I wanted to charge the owners for withholding evidence, but by the time I found out, Chill was dead, and the case was closed. Second of all: a certain stoolie – I won't give you a name – informed me that not only was Chill NOT around Crime Alley at the time...but someone else was."

Nightwing stared.

"You mean...STRANGE killed the Waynes?"

"It seemed somewhat logical to me; he went to the same show, I figure, left early, before the Waynes did – and, by the way, they left early, too, according to Bruce – and just waited. What I couldn't find was a motive, or any definitive proof that Strange was there, other than the guy's word."

There was silence, and Gordon turned away, silent as a graveyard.

"Commissioner," Robin began quietly, "where is that closed convenience store now?"

Gordon sniffed.

"Nowhere. It was demolished to make way for a more unholy place."

"What place?" asked Catwoman.

"Well...since you insist on knowing, I might as well tell you: our stool pigeon was a bird in more ways than one."

"Are you talking about Oswald C. Cobblepot?"

"Yeah. Penguin was just a little puffin then. Heh...sort of ironic how he'd still be a stool pigeon even to this-"

While he had been talking, Gordon turned around...

As he half-expected, all three had disappeared.

He sighed dismally.

"This is getting kind of old..." he grumbled.

Down below, on the street, Catwoman slipped out of the handcuffs; she could have escaped at any time, but Dick had insisted she wear them "for show."

"Okay," sighed Nightwing. "Let's recap: Bruce goes to see Professor Hugo Strange..."

"Who may be the person who REALLY killed his parents..."

"And disappears a few hours later. At the same time, a bunch of freaky bandit-beasts just pop up..."

"And Mr. Zsasz escapes, and gets help from them..."

"To try and kill Leslie, for reasons unknown. Strange tried to take Bruce into his Home for Wayward Youth..."

"But Leslie didn't trust him, so she got permission from Child Services for her and Alfred to watch him."

"Meanwhile, Penguin, as a younger chick, had tried to fink on Strange..."

"But it was his word against the professor's, and Chill seemed to most obvious choice, so the case never got reopened."

"And, to top it all off, the Wonderland Gang, assisted by Scarecrow, Strange's one-time pupil, have suddenly taken up jewel robbery."

There was a long pause.

"Looks like Strange is the key to this puzzle," Robin muttered.

"Gee, you think?" hissed Selina Kyle.

"We don't have anything yet...just speculation and unanswered questions," said Nightwing, a hand on his brow. "We need something that can tie all this together..."

"And maybe figure out where Bruce went...to say nothing of putting our Nutty Professor out of office for good."

Nightwing nodded in response to Robin's quip.

Catwoman grinned.

"Well," she purred, "anyone else up for a Penguin Hunt?"


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34: Drown My Sorrow...**

Batman approached the Dreary Lane Theatre. He was frustrated and weary, to say the least; no Cheshire Cat and no Alice nearby, and the Carpenter's favors had led him to encounters with a troublesome Octopus, a lazy Music Fish, pearl-eyed Oyster Starlets, and a slew of Drifting Ruins out for his hide.

Now, as the Theatre came into view, he had only two objectives in mind: find Alice and the Carpenter, and get what information he could get.

But, as he approached the long, battered-down, undersea theater, this quickly changed: he was about to enter through the front...when something caught his ears.

_"Uuurrrggglll..."_

Batman turned slowly.

He saw nothing, but the strange, gargled, moaning sound continued. It seemed to be coming from somewhere at the back end of the theater...

Cautious, he moved quietly over to the end.

Batman had seen the front of the Dreary Lane Theatre, and had been inside the area where the guests stayed, but he hadn't seen the back room. The instant he saw what looked like a bloody handprint on the back door, which read, scrawled untidily in black ink, "Directors Only," he obviously knew something was amiss.

Slowly, he turned the old handle of the door – formed from what looked like the lower jawbone of a crocodile – and entered the room.

What he found was a bloody mess...literally.

Torn apart bodies of fish and turtles lay strewn all about. And not only sea creatures were here: human skeletons were also soon, the bones splintered and scattered. Splattered, colorful, stringy things – perhaps destroyed jellyfish – were also covering the walls, along with buckets and buckets worth of dried, black-&-red blood. Oyster shells were also thrown about, and were the only things clean in the room...and not in a good way: they looked like they had been licked clean.

To Batman's utmost horror, one fish – his tail/legs cut clean off – was still alive, barely moving, blood still trickling out of his mouth.

_"Uuurrrggglll,"_ moaned the dying fish.

Batman hesitated, then carefully went over to him.

"What happened?"

The fish moaned and then coughed before speaking. Its voice was hoarse, and its gills – also bright red – were heaving.

"W-Walrus...Dance of Death..." was all the fish could say, then collapsed, dead as a doornail.

For a moment, Batman just stared at the newest corpse to litter the gory backstage area.

"The door did say 'Director's Only.'"

Batman turned slowly, eyes burning behind his cowl, to face the Carpenter. He couldn't really see the showman, the light from the outside mixing with the dim area of the horrific hidden room. The silhouette of the tall, wavy-haired man, however, was clear. Directly behind him was a huge, floating mass that Batman supposed was the Walrus.

_"And this was scarcely odd, because they'd eaten every one. _I should have known: you're no impresario. You're a killer."

"This world is not so 'either-or,' Batman," said the Carpenter, his voice devoid of all emotion.

"You promised me answers if I helped you. Start with _this,"_ snarled the Dark Knight.

Carpenter eyed him with a thoughtful eye.

"I don't believe I will. You did a few errands, got your hands dirty...big deal."

"Why the Theatre? Tell me that."

"The show distraculates the crowd...truly a shame you'll have to miss it."

"Where is Alice? She went to give you your Star...or should I be saying Main Dish?"

"Appetizer is more like it," said Carpenter in a grim, almost sad-sounding voice. "As for Ms. Liddell...perhaps it is her time."

"Time? Time! The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things! Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax! Of cabbages and kings! And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings-"

"Enough of that, Walrus!" snapped the Carpenter. "You start blithering about there being too much sand on the beach, and I'll have your blubber for breakfast!"

The peg-legged playmaker waved one hand, and the Walrus, looking haughty, swam off.

"And here I was, thinking I MIGHT be able to trust you..." growled Batman.

Carpenter gazed at him with a strangely apologetic and regretful look.

"I had no choice," he said softly. "One can't always do what one would like...I thought you would know that by now. I wish I could say that you will understand in time..."

Here the Carpenter grabbed something on the wall, just on the other side of the doorframe...

"But you won't _have_ the time to."

The Carpenter pulled a lever, and the floor beneath Batman opened up. He and one of the skeletons fell through the hole and down a long passage into a large, empty pit.

Batman stood up unsteadily. He gazed up back through the passage.

The darkness above him told him it had closed back up.

_I need to get out of here...the Hattress is in danger. Heck, WONDERLAND'S in danger..._

As he was pondering how exactly he could escape, from behind him he heard a bone-chilling groan...

He turned slowly.

The skeleton's skull was floating in mid-air. Its eye sockets held no eyes in them, yet two orbs of bright blue light shone in their place. Slowly, piece by piece, the skeleton began to piece itself back together. The neck...the spine...the ribs...the legs...the arms...

As the skeleton stood of its own accord, it moved forward – how a skeleton could move without any muscles to do the job, Batman neither knew nor cared – and, as it moved, the water seemed to curl around it...to take shape...

Soon, a man stood before Batman, with glowing blue eyes and pale blue skin, dressed in the outfit of a navy sailor, with a dark cap, a black cravat, and a blue uniform.

The sailor gazed at him with a thin, cadaverous smile.

"Are ye Bruce Wayne?" he said in a shallow voice.

"I am."

The ghost pointed at him with one blue finger.

"I was taken by the sea...the Walrus took my body, and the Ruin took my soul. Both have been returned. Can ye fight?"

"Well."

"Defeat me, then. Let me rest in peace, finally, and I will help ye out of here."

Without saying another word, the sailor suddenly began to spin around, transforming into a swirling, tornado-like thing: a whirlpool, seen from the depths.

Batman jumped away as the whirlpool spun towards him, sending up mud everywhere. As the Drowned Sailor reappeared, Batman flung a bat-o-rang at him. The sailor waved one arm, and the water seemed to move with him, knocking the bat-o-rang away.

Now the sailor reached into his pockets, and pulled out what looked like two small pot-grenades (the kind used by pirates in the days of yore) from them. He flung one of them at the Dark Knight, who cried out as the blast sent him flying backwards. The sailor rose up, floating in mid-air...er, mid-water, and came forward, raising the second grenade above his head in both hands. Batman kicked up a leg, knocking the ghoulish thing away. The Drowned Sailor screamed like a banshee and collided with a wall.

As the sailor stood up, covered in mud, some of the skin on his face had seemingly fallen away, revealing the bone underneath once more.

"I am not done yet," he rasped, and suddenly jetted forward, fist held out. Batman reeled back as the punch hit him in the jaw. The sailor raised his other fist, now close up, and sent his fingers, held out and held tight together, into a paddle-shape, into his gut. Batman launched out a punch of his own, smacking the Drowned Sailor against the bone of his face.

The sailor drew a dagger from his pocket, and lunged forward, free hand clenched up like a claw. With more strength in the ghost than the Caped Crusader had really thought before, he pinned him down. The ghost brought his knife up, aiming directly for Batman's heart.

"I'm sorry," he rasped. "Believe me, I would have wanted it to end differently, Batman..."

"Yeah. Me, too."

As the Sailor's knife came down, Batman managed to roll out from under the ghost, causing the specter's blade to miss him as it hit the ground...

And, instead, go through its owner's own belly.

The ghost stared, then looked up at Batman.

He smiled a sad smile.

"Clever little bat...thank ye."

"How can I get out of here and stop the Carpenter?"

"Use this," gasped the ghost, and pulled a third pot-grenade from his pocket. "It is endowed with me spirit...even after I'm gone, it will work the way ye want it."

"How?"

"Just aim...and...throw...no matter how far away, it will meet its mark..."

Here the ghost choked, and then looked skyward, falling to his knees.

"Look out, haul anchor, and heave to, mates! I'm on me way, at last! It's the wide, glorious main for me, now!"

So saying, the glowing blue of the ghost's eyes vanished, and the Drowned Sailor disintegrated into a pile of black dust before Batman's eyes.

Batman wasted no time. He looked back up at the passage, and after looking at it for a moment, held back the pot-grenade, and tossed it upwards.

There was a tremendous bang, and then something fell down towards Batman, who stepped back to allow a large, round disc of bloodstained wood hit the floor.

He looked up again.

The dim light above told him it had worked.

He took out his grappling hook, and launched it upwards. Once it caught the edge, he heaved himself up, and began the climb out of the pit.

_I'm coming for you, Carpenter..._


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35: Begin the Feed...**

Alice Liddell looked around anxiously. A great many fish, dressed in their Sunday best, had turned up for _Totentanz..._most of the Depths, it seemed. They were chatting excitedly to each other, while somewhere offstage the Music Fish and his instruments played an overture.

The Carpenter had thanked the Hattress dearly for bringing him back his Star; he had given her a ticket for a front row seat.

Alice really wished she hadn't. She continued to flick her eyes around, the emerald irises taking in all of the golden lights of the Theatre under the sea, mostly on the lookout for her companion, Batman...but also out of the simple fact that she hadn't felt this crowded since her time in...

She shuddered.

_I've got to stop thinking about it..._

Suddenly, the overture faded away, and the lights dimmed down...The stage lights came on as the audience quieted. Directly in the center of the stage stood the Carpenter himself, tattered black cape flared out dramatically, grinning like the Cheshire Cat himself, hammer-topped cane in one hand.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, the sound echoing everywhere. "WELCOME TO THE _SHOOOWWW!"_

Carpenter bowed theatrically, one hand gesturing toward the other end of the stage as he, himself, inched away. As he left, the Oysters came on. The three black-haired, red-shelled Starlets were preceded by the blue-shelled, blonde-haired Star. As they entered in a line, they danced a can-can. The setting appeared to be Tundraful, with the cigarette-smoking moon and icy shores.

The Hattress raised an eyebrow, crossing both her arms and legs as she sat back, trying to relax, but not succeeding, eyes still flitting about.

_Quite a bizarre show this is turning out to be already...come on, Batman...where are you...?_

As the three Starlets went to the back of the stage, the Star herself twirled and moved to the front.

_"Sword and crown are worthless here," _she sang. _"I invite everyone to dance: laborers, lawyers, church, and gown...all make their little prance. Men and women, young and old, reject my Prophet Hand. I don't implore them, nor ignore them, but firmly take my stand-!"_

CRREEAAK!

The squeaking of rusty hinges filled the audience, and then, to the shock of all, something huge and brown slammed down from the ceiling...right onto the Star.

The Star didn't even have time to react; her blue shell, along with the white, oily blood of an Oyster, now covered the stage.

The Hattress, the audience, and the three Starlets all stared in stunned silence at the Walrus, covered in said fluids. He smiled out at the audience. Far cry from the dopey, sleepy thing Alice had seen upon her first arrival at the Theatre earlier on, the look in his eyes was now alert, intelligent...and not comforting at all. He wore a skull-like mask on his face, and in one flipper carried what looked like a scythe.

"That's quite enough of that, I think," he barked, eyeing everyone present with a dark glare. "No more preliminaries...here's the performance you've been waiting for. The remainder of this song, which proves I am without prejudice, and have a fine sense of humor..."

Alice gaped.

_Those are oddly big words for the stupid Walrus I remember..._

"Ahem!" coughed the Walrus, clearing his throat, and then slammed the handle of his scythe onto the stage. The scene rapidly changed from Tundraful's icebergs to a decayed graveyard, with two very prominent tombstones: one with a cross, the other with the image of...

The Hattress shivered at the realization it was a picture of a fire.

_"This life is full of random death,"_ sang the Walrus in a deep, dark baritone. _"And heaps of grief and shame. So few are slew by accident...you want someone to blame? Fire! Plague! Strange disease! Drowned! Murdered, or, if you please, a long fall down the basement stairs! Normally expected, so no one cares."_

Here the brute paused, licking his lips with a fat, red tongue.

_"I often must work very hard, with sweat running down my skin. After the dance, I then must rest..."_

Without warning – moving faster than one would have expected such a massive, girth-bound monstrosity could move – the Walrus turned and swept out his scythe, the crook of the handle catching one of the tiny Starlets and bringing her closer.

_"And the eating..."_

He picked up the Starlet in his flipper and smiled at her fiercely.

_"Can..."_

The Walrus opened his mouth very, VERY wide, the two ivory tusks like a gateway to oblivion...the Starlet whimpered...

_"Begin."_

GULP. SLLLURRRPP...

There was dead silence.

A red shell, licked clean, clattered off the stage and hit one fish in the audience in the lap.

All stared in shocked horror.

The Walrus licked his lips, belched, and slapped his flipper down.

"A loaf of bread," he shouted, speaking to someone at the back of the theater area, "is what I said we truly, chiefly need...with butter and olive oil besides, all very good indeed. Now, if your ready, everyone..."

A spotlight shone on the back of the room.

The Carpenter brought his hand – with a key – away from the door, and replaced it in his pocket. His usually dramatic and playful face was grim and cold. He bore face paint that resembled a skull, and held his hammer-cane like a weapon.

"We can begin to feed," he finished ominously.

NOW the audience reacted, many of the females shrieking at the top of their lungs. The remaining two Starlets tried to escape...but two blue fins and a wrapping of pink tentacles stopped them as the Octopus and the Music Fish appeared, the Octopus wearing a black domino mask, and the Music Fish wearing a black sweater and a black derby hat.

The Hattress tried to stand, so she could help...but she couldn't leave her seat.

She looked around and noticed that all the screaming, struggling fish in the audience had the same problem.

Then she looked down and frowned when she saw the sticky, clear substance beneath her bottom.

_Glued to my seat...clichéd AND humiliating._

"Please remain in your seats!" sneered the Carpenter, once more returning to the front of the room. "All will be served...so to speak."

Cannon Crabs scuttled into view, latching their claws onto members of the audience in the front row. One even grabbed the Hattress, and held his firearm up close to her head.

"Stay down, pretty girl," he growled.

Alice snarled at him in return.

The Octopus shoved the Starlet he held towards the Walrus, who caught the muscle-maiden in his free flipper. She squealed and squirmed as the brutish beast lifted her over his open maw...

_SCHLINK!_

The Walrus cried out in pain, and dropped the Starlet, who lay, staring up in fear, on the floor.

A black, jagged metal blood had pierced the flabby fiend through the flipper.

The Hattress smirked fiercely at the stunned expression on the Carpenter's face as a familiar, pointy-eared figure emerged from the shadows.

"Batman!" snarled the Walrus.

The Music Fish dropped his Oyster, and the two Starlets, squeaking like frightened mice, ran offstage.

"There's an expensive cost for this buffet, Walrus," said the Dark Knight.

"I'll start with the Bat _a la mode!"_ the beast roared, and his hefty mass suddenly shot forward, scythe held up, ready to kill. The Dark Knight ducked and moved to the side, and the Walrus slammed into the Theatre seats. As the booths – set up like church pews – collapsed like dominoes, the fish were allowed to be loosed. So was Alice.

Alice launched herself at the stage, whipping out her Vorpal Blade. The audience members all ran for the door, and, after slamming against several times, managed to get out.

The Walrus growled, heaving his weight upwards, glaring with wide, bloodshot eyes at the Dark Knight, who stood nearby.

"If there's one thing I cannot stand," growled the monster, "It's when my dinner gets away."

"I know a certain Cheshire Cat who might agree with you there."

"That low-life of a feline...one of the reasons Carpenter and I moved from the beach down here. He won't come under water."

"So I noticed."

The Walrus grunted thickly, whipping his scythe upwards. The Caped Crusader ducked the attack, and shattered the scythe blade with a well-aimed kick. Another kick spun around into the Walrus' face.

The blow only briefly stunned the Walrus, who roared and snapped his tusked jaws at the Dark Knight, who easily dodged. His gloved hands dove for his utility belt, and he slammed a fistful of sleeping gas pellets into the Walrus' eyes.

The bulky beast groaned and and collapsed.

On the stage area, Alice's green eyes burned angrily as she glared at the Carpenter.

_"Alas, alas, for Miss Mackay: her knives and forks have run away!"_ she hissed, running one of her cybernetic fingers along the edge of her knife.

"Get her!" snapped the Carpenter, and the Music Fish swam at the raven-haired girl.

The Hattress ducked, rolled, and tossed up her Demon Dice. As the glass sea creature turned to swim forward, the dice slipped through the open "mouth" of his bottle-shaped body.

_"Oh, no...!"_ he sang out.

The number was a twelve: ice.

A cold, bluish mist sprayed from the dice, and the Music Fish's glass frame froze and then shattered into thousands of cold fragments. Alice ducked an attempted ambush from the Octopus, and grabbed the dice, putting them back into her pockets. She brandished her knife as the pink cephalopod glared at her. She swept out her blade. The drunken, pink, tentacled fiend managed to avoid the strike, and wrapped one of his tentacles around her right leg. He yanked, and the Hattress fell to the floor. While she was down, he wrapped two more tentacles around her neck...

Then moaned and quite literally sank to the stage, the Vorpal Blade stuck through the base of his body, where his tentacles connected to his head.

The Carpenter stood alone now on the stage, facing a very angry Batman and a truly enraged Alice Liddell.

"Now, let's not lose our heads..." he said, lips trembling nervously.

"Too late," snarled Alice, and pounced, pinning Carpenter to the stage floor, gloved hand on his neck, cybernetic arm held back, knife held in it, ready to stab him through the forehead.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't end you now," she hissed. "And it better be good."

"Hattress, wait," Batman said.

"I am waiting," she replied, without looking at him, green, soul-piercing eyes glaring into Carpenter's own terrified ones. "Waiting for him to lie through his teeth."

"I-I dare not lie now..."

"After lying so often already? Somehow I doubt that."

"I'm not the enemy you seek, Alice!" Carpenter said, trying to break the grip on his scrawny neck. "I never wanted any of this!"

"Then who did?"

The Carpenter gulped, and looked over at the Walrus.

"Him," he said simply. "I tried to hide this bit of Wonderland from that...that beast! But then came the Ruins...I don't know if he was working with or for them, but he informanted my position to their apparent master. He told me if I didn't do what I was told, he'd tear down all of the Deluded Depths, and eat me as an appetizer! Appeasement's never _clean..."_

"So the feast was his plan?" growled Batman. "Somehow that's farfetched."

"Not as much as you think," Alice said, doubt beginning to shine in her eyes. "When his...performance began, he was using words that no thuggish dummy would know...are you telling me Walrus made the Infernal Train?"

Carpenter shivered.

"No...the March Hare and the Dormouse did. And no, he didn't commission it, if that's what you mean. But...whoever did...Walrus was with them."

All three were silent for a moment.

"Who set the plan for the Train in motion?" Batman asked. "Do you know?"

Carpenter bit his lip.

"I'll tell you what I can...if you'll allow me to stand..."

The Hattress looked at Batman, who nodded. She sighed softly, and allowed the Carpenter to get up.

"Whatever, or whoever, created the Train's blueprint arrived not long after you took control...and it's more horrible than you can even currently imagine. The Infernal Train is a monument to the Death of a Dream, the Creation of a Nightmare, and the Loss of a Mind."

"But who is it?"

The Carpenter's face and voice changed; his eyes grew stony and dark, and his voice became cold and raspy, as if he had aged twenty years.

"We must all play our assigned roles," he hissed. "Are you a pawn, or the king? An idiot, or a practiced fool?"

He paused, and sighed, voice becoming normal.

"However this turns out," he continued quietly, "consider the prospect...that you've been MISLED, Batman. Only _then_ ask, 'by whom?'"

Batman opened his mouth to speak...but a familiar, out of tune whistle interrupted him.

All turned toward the open theatre entrance.

A bright, red light was rushing toward them, like a bat out of Hell itself.

"Oh, God..." murmered Alice.

"We've got to get out of here!"

Without warning, the Carpenter grabbed Alice and shoved her roughly to one side of the stage. Batman lunged, but the Carpenter – with more speed and strength than either thought he had – flipped him over beside her.

"Don't move!" the impresario said, holding a hand placatingly, and began to yell as the Train grew closer, the entire building turning red from the glaring lights. "There's a secret portal leading to the Mysterious East! It's right where you are!"

"Mysterious East?"

"Caterpillar's new lair!" Carpenter explained shortly, shouting to be heard. "He may know how you can stop the Train!"

"What about you?" Alice cried.

Carpenter smiled wryly.

"Having lost the Hatter already, I understand this will be hard on you, Ms. Liddell...but perhaps it is _my_ time."

Without another word, Carpenter slammed the head of his cane against the wall. A loose board on the stage backdrop flipped over.

Just before Batman and the Hattress disappeared through the portal (which appeared _around _them), they heard the crunching of wood and steel and the hideous shriek of a broken steam whistle...


	36. Chapter 36

Notes: Track 35 added to soundtrack (located on profile, for those of you who do not know).

**Chapter 36: The Birdman of Gotham City**

Oswald C. Cobblepot was a...unique sort of criminal. His short, portly stature, long, beaky nose, and odd laugh – which sounded like the squawking of some sort of bird – had made him a subject of ridicule for many years, ever since he was a boy. His father had died of pneumonia after getting caught in the rain, and so Cobblpot's overbearing mother forced him to bring an umbrella with him no matter where he went. (A trait that lead him to carrying an assortment of deadly trick umbrellas wherever he went as an adult.)

Dubbed "Penguin" by classmates and neighbors, Cobblepot's family had been immeasurably wealthy...but, after his father's death, they had squandered their fortune into bankruptcy. From high class to running a simple aviary, they had dropped horribly on the social ladder. Traumas from his childhood had bent his psyche, but not broken it; taking to his old name of ridicule like a duck takes to water, Penguin had become a master thief, his high intellect and even higher ambitions making him highly successfully...even if his stature remained stunted.

But time had apparently caught up with Penguin...the sly old bird had seemingly retired: he was now one of Gotham's most successful businessmen, his nightclub/casino/restaurant called The Iceberg Lounge" one of the city's hotspots for interaction...legal and illegal.

For "seemingly" did not equal "completely;" Penguin continued his life of crime...this time through subtler ways of villainy, such as extortion, smuggling, racketeering, and – his personal favorite – the fencing of stolen goods. Having finally achieved his goal of rebuilding his family fortune, rather than truly going straight, Cobblepot had decided that if he was so good at the crime-game, why stop?

While the police – and Batman – had tried time and time again to convict Penguin for his many wicked deeds, Gothams' infamous "Bird of Prey" usually managed to keep his pointed nose clean...and, when he did find himself in a cell, his personal vanguard of lawyers were always able to clear him at trial, and bail, obviously, was never a problem. Penguin's reaches even went to the press, so that the trials he DID find himself in were always underplayed if/when put into the news, so that very, very few people in Gotham City truly knew the extent of his dastardly work.

All these connections made him, perhaps ironically, a valuable "stool-pigeon" for the police, and Batman; even as a young boy, he had been a constant tattle-tale. When the Bat wasn't battling him, he was giving him a grilling.

Penguin sighed as he entered his office. He removed his purple top hat, which had a white silk ribbon hatband, along with his thick black coat, which was lined with brown bear fur, and hung them up on a rack before shutting the door. Without these garments, he wore a black-&-white tuxedo, including a tie and white gloves, and his black hair was combed neatly. It had been a tiring day; between dealing with troublesome customers, feeding the seals at the "iceberg" centerpiece of the Lounge, dealing with money-haggling performers, and picking up "merchandise" from the Terrible Trio, it had been a tiring day for Oswald Cobblepot...and now he was expecting a phone call. He placed a black umbrella into the umbrella case beside his desk. He sat down wearily. He removed the monocle he wore over his right eye and rubbed it.

He smiled tiredly at the birdcage to his left, and reached in to stroke the head of its occupant: a hunting falcon.

"Hello, Oliver," Penguin said. "Did I wake you?"

The bird just hissed in reply. Penguin laughed – _"Waugh, Waugh!"_ – and reached for his desk. Removing one glove, he took a small, dead mouse from the drawer, and held out his ungloved hand to the falcon, which quickly snatched up the little corpse and began to eat. Penguin grinned and put on some sanitizer, before replacing his glove onto his hand and shutting the drawer. He took a cigarette from his pocket, set it into a cigarette holder, lit it with a match, and began to smoke, blowing rings up at the ceiling as he waited patiently.

It wasn't much longer before the phone rang, and the Vile Vulture of the Underworld quickly picked it up.

"Hello? Iceberg Lounge. This is Mr. Cobblepot," he said fast, as he had rehearsed so many times before, although he was fairly sure he already knew who was on the line.

_"Hello, Oswald."_

"Ah. It's you," said Penguin, flicking his pinky against the cigarette holder and knocking some ashes from his cigarette to the floor. "Have your grisly, grotesque golems gathered more treasures for this scavenging bird, sir?"

_"They have, and our...er..."friends" have also been assisting us to that end."_

_ "Waugh, Waugh! _Excellent! So, how much have you gathered?"

_"Well...I haven't counted yet..."_

Penguin scowled.

"What?" he said flatly.

_"I believe you heard me, Oswald."_

Penguin growled.

"Don't you call me that. You know I really hate that name."

_"I know, but that's what my job is: to find all the little things that annoy you, so that the big things don't matter. Like, say...Batman?"_

Penguin sat upright now.

"Batman? Is he on your trail?"

The voice on the other end chuckled darkly.

_"I wouldn't worry, Oswald. You see, I'm calling not to offer you more of the spoils between the efforts of myself and the efforts of Jervis and Jonathan...I'm here to offer you a far more valuable bit of birdseed."_

These words were enough to whet the Penguin's greed to the point of nearly drooling.

"What feed would this be?"

There was a short pause on the other end.

_"How much would you pay to know the identity of the Dark Knight?"_

Penguin's eyes widened. He gulped.

"Wh-what?"

_"Meet me at Station 17 of the Gotham Metro; it's closed for repairs, but the trains still go by. The time for the meeting is 3:00 a.m."_

Penguin glanced at the clock on his office wall.

"That's not very far away..."

_"No, it isn't. You, the Wonderland Gang, and Mr. Crane will all be participating. Do not be late."_

CLUNK. The person on the other end hung up.

Penguin stared at the phone, puzzled, and then placed it back into place, gazing off thoughtfully.

Then his frown went from confused to irritated as he felt the familiar breeze from one end of the room, signaling the opening of the rarely-locked window.

"Do you not believe in knocking?"

"Would you answer?"

Penguin looked up, one eyebrow raised curiously as he viewed the tall, feminine, cat-eared silhouette.

"No, I wouldn't, Selina," he said simply, folding his hands and placing his chin on them, cigarette once more clenched between his teeth. "Were you looking for something? I assure you, you'll find no emeralds or baubles here of value...all I have are birds and fishes."

"I'm a cat, remember? Those are just as valuable as any kitten."

Penguin blinked doubtfully.

"Are you here to settle business, or shall I summon my guards?" he asked dryly.

"I'm here to ask you a few questions."

Penguin scoffed.

_"Waugh!_ Catwoman asking a bird for answers? I'll pass on this one."

"I heard that phone call, Ozzy. All of it. Who were you talking to, and what did they have to offer this time?"

Penguin smirked.

"I haven't accepted yet, so I'd say that is no more your business than the business of the police."

Penguin gasped as, without warning, Catwoman jumped at him, grabbing his collar with one hand, holding the other up threateningly, diamond-sharp claws extended, as she crouched on his desk. Penguin sneered, reaching stealthily downward with one hand...

"Calling your pals won't help you, Pengy," hissed Catwoman. "Now, who were you talking to? A certain professor, perhaps? One with a _strange_ attitude about him?"

"Curious kitten, aren't you, my crazy, crafty Catwoman?" growled Penguin. "But you've made one minor mistake..."

Instead of pressing the security button under his desk, the Penguin's gloved hand clasped around a red umbrella inside his case.

"I don't REALLY need outside protection."

Catwoman somersaulted back as the metal tip of the umbrella retracted, and, in its place, out popped a switchblade-like blade. Penguin tried to stab the Feline Femme Fatale, but her timely jump managed to let her avoid the damage. With a snarl, the vicious birdman swung his umbrella-blade again...and missed again, instead getting the weapon caught in the wall. Oliver screeched from within his cage as his master was hoisted up by the lithe Catwoman...

And held out the open window, seven stories above the pavement. The neon lights of the Iceberg Lounge's sign, located directly over the office window, burned his eyes. He panted, his cigarette, holder and all, falling down to the Earth from his mouth, his monocle dangling on its chain.

"I can land on my feet...but you're clumsy on solid ground," Catwoman hissed. "I'll ask you very clearly, Penguin: Do. You. Know. Hugo. Strange?"

"Y-yes, I do...owns the Wayne Home for W-W-Wayward Youth, d-doesn't he?"

"Was he the one on the phone?"

"Er...well, I, uh..."

_"Tell me!"_ growled Catwoman, and gave the dwarfish man a little shake, causing him to yelp in fear.

"D-don't do that! Yes! Yes, I was on the phone with him!"

"What did he want?"

Penguin's fear dissipated slightly.

"I may be a rat-fink of a bird, but, e-even in this precarious perch, I shan't divulge that savory bit of knowledge. You could drop me from a higher place, but I won't tell you."

Catwoman glared even deeper. Penguin gulped.

"O-of course," he said hastily, "th-that's n-no reason t-to try..."

Selina Kyle studied him for a moment and then sighed.

"Fine...I know you were expecting that call. And from the sound of it, you've been busy with him for awhile now."

Penguin nodded quickly.

"I'm going to put you down on your sweet little office floor now, Ozzy," Catwoman said. "Tell me what I want, and I MIGHT leave here without feeding your precious birdy over there..."

Here Catwoman nodded towards Oliver's cage.

"To my tiger."

Penguin cocked his head slightly.

"Y-you don't own a tiger..."

"No, but I _do_ own the Gotham City Zoo."

Penguin would have shuddered, would it not have proved detrimental to his health.

"V-very well..."

Catwoman nodded, and swung around, throwing Penguin back onto the floor. Penguin grunted in pain, and then stood slowly, replacing his monocle and pulling out a new cigarette, this time without a holder – he grumbled mentally at the realization that he would need to go buy a new one – and lit it with another match, which he shook till it went out and flung out the window.

"When I was just a hatchling," Penguin said, "Hugo Strange got away clean with what is still regarded as one of the most malevolent and mysterious murders in this rat-hole of a city's history."

"The Murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne," Catwoman said, nodding. "We found that out already."

"We?" Penguin asked, then, after a moment, smiled wryly up at her. "Why, Selina...igniting that old flame with the Dynamic Dunderhead again, are we?"

"What is Strange to you now?" Catwoman said, ignoring this and putting her hands on her hips.

"I told him I knew of his real role in said crime, and the nefarious no-good-nick now owes me a favor. He is repaying it, little by little. He also arranged for the Mad Hatter and the Scarecrow to escape from Arkham..."

"So that they could help him."

"Indeed. What you heard on the phone was..."

Penguin paused, and Selina realized whatever he said could not be trusted within the first second of that pause.

"Well...let's just say it was a full repayment."

"I see," Catwoman said slowly. "And would you mind telling me where all those pretty things went?"

Penguin laughed.

_"Waugh Waugh Waugh!_ Why, so you can go get them for your own? You can't possibly be thinking of turning in those plundered pots of jeweled potpourri to the police, after all, my pussycat pilferer..."

"The alliteration is quaint, Pengy, but I'm not going to laugh. The Hargreaves job was MY idea, whether the Hatter and his gang know it or not. That's one of many reasons why I'm helping him out."

"Hmm...yes, and I'm supposing your little...er..._past relationship_ is just another reason, right?"

"Shut up, you bird-brain. Is that all you have for me?"

"It's all I'm going to give..."

Penguin now eyed her with an uncomfortable stare.

"Without payment, anyway."

Catwoman sniffed.

"Go peck yourself, Penguin," she hissed and without another word, went back to the window. She crouched on the ledge, slipped her goggles on, and turned back.

"So that you know...even if I don't rat on you to the cops, our "old friend" will," she hissed, and, wrapping her bullwhip around a nearby lightpost, she swung away.

_If we can find him, that is..._


	37. Chapter 37

Notes: Much of the discussion in the flashback here is based on the same one from _Batman: Arkham Asylum._ If I owned that game, and its sequel, I probably wouldn't be here...and Joker wouldn't have died.

**Chapter 37: Opium Dreams**

A small boy stares at the ground, looking at nothing. His eyes are wide and cold and empty. He shuffles like a living corpse, a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, kid...take a seat," says the officer in the glasses with the moustache. Behind him is a younger officer – only about a month on the force – with curly red hair and pudgy cheeks.

The small boy just nods, barely visible, as he is guided to a chair. He sits down mechanically. The redheaded rookie shuts the office door.

On it is written "Captain J. Gordon."

There is silence for a minute or two.

The boy stares at his lap for a moment. The last few hours have been a blur. The Hatter and the Hare...the bats...the rain...the gunshot...the man in the tweed coat...

A hand finds its way across the captain's desk, and touches his own gently. He glances up quickly at the officer, but then his eyes fall again.

"Hey, you okay?" whispers Gordon.

The boy almost snorts with laughter. "Okay?" How could anything ever be "okay" again?

The rookie sniffs behind him.

"Oh, come on...a kid like him? He's got all the money in the world! He'll be _fine."_

The boy whimpers at the bitterness in the man's voice.

"Shut up!" snaps the captain. "He's just a kid, and he's alone now! You can't buy happiness, rookie."

The other man just rolls his eyes.

"Whatever...did you know his butler's on his way to pick him up? Can you beat that, boss? He's got a butler!"

"Get out," growls Gordon, "before I have you suspended, Lewis."

The small boy hears the door open and shut behind him.

Gordon sighs, and smiles at him.

"I'm sorry...he's new, and he doesn't understand. I do, though."

The small boy glares at him doubtfully for a second, and then gazes at the floor again.

"Look, I need to ask you some questions. Your name is Bruce, right?"

The boy nods.

"Great. My name's on the door, so..."

He trails off.

"Look, before we start, you want me to get you anything?"

_Besides my parents back?_ the boy thinks darkly.

He shakes his head.

"N-no...sir. It's just...just..."

He can't continue. Gordon cocks his head to one side.

The boy gulps. He looks up, eyes watering once more.

"Wh-why did they do it, officer?"

The captain looks away sadly.

"I wish I could tell you why half the people around here do what they do," he says, a steely edge to his tone. "It's like this city's got something wrong with it...makes so many people sick."

The boy just sobs and looks away.

Gordon stands up and comes over to the boy. He turns him around in the swiveling chair and meets his gaze, hands on both his shoulders.

"I know you don't feel like answering me, but I need some leads if I'm going to catch who did this. I can't give you your parents back...if I could, believe me, I would. But I can help you get the bad guys. You have to trust me."

The small boy sniffles, and wipes some tears away.

"He...he wore a tweed coat..."

Gordon smiles.

"Okay, good. And listen, son...just call me Jim, all right?"

The boy smiles slightly, sadly.

"Y-y-yes, sir."

Gordon smiles a bit wider, stand up, sits down, and writes something down inside a notebook.

"Now, what was he after?"

The boy shakes his head slightly.

"It's all a blur now, sir...Jim...I just...I just remember the coat...and the gun...and..."

"And what?"

The boy looks up again.

"The rosary. My mother's rosary. He grabbed it."

_**"Up and at 'em, Batman!"**_

__Batman sat upright. He groaned, rubbing his eyes, trying to figure things out.

_It wasn't just a necklace...it was a rosary. Strange has one just like it..._

_ Coincidence? Not likely..._

"Bad dream, eh?"

He looks up, wearily. His dark eyes meet the emerald eyes of Alice Liddell.

"Hattress," he sighs. "Where are we now?"

"The Vale of Tears...or what's left of it," Alice said grimly, and pulled him to his feet.

Batman looked around...and his eyes widened in shock.

The sky of the Vale had turned orange...the thin, swampy mists were replaced with smoke, as the vegetation burned with unnatural slowness around him. The water was dirty and black, and the earth was charred and – he shivered – flowing with scarlet streams, the source of which was painfully obvious due to their coppery odor.

On the edge of a cliff nearby, he spotted the Cheshire Cat, gazing up at the smog smuggered sky. The cat cocked his head, an ear twitching, as he watched something approach in the distance.

Batman and Alice glared as the massive, black, fiery form of the Infernal Train flew across the sky, a rain of embers and tar dropping from its wheels as the rails of flame appeared before it and vanished behind it. Its hideous whistle pierced through the sound of the wildfire, and then it vanished.

"Cheshire!" called Batman.

The cat turned. His glowing, golden eyes narrowed, and his ubiquitous grin widened.

"Ah, there you two are. Seeking refuge from a wicked, watery world? Perhaps things only LOOK like they've gone to pot..."

"You aren't that good a liar, and neither of us is that stupid."

Cheshire shrugged, and gazed skyward again.

"I was beginning to think that the Walrus had managed to grab a bite out of you after all..."

"You knew?" Alice snarled.

Cheshire rolled his eyes.

"My dearest Alice, you should know by now that I know _plenty._ What happened down in the Deluded Depths was a mystery to most...so, naturally, I found out. Now come: Caterpillar awaits once more."

Without another word, the cat swirled away. He reappeared – frustratingly enough – behind them.

"Shall we?" purred the feline, and sauntered off into the dark, smoky woods.

Alice and Batman glanced at each other, and then walked after him.

Alice took out her blade, gazing around with unease.

_"Scotland's burning, Scotland's burning! Look out, look out! Fire, fire, fire, fire...more water, more water..."_

"You don't like flames, do you?"

"I have reason not to."

"Mind telling me those reasons?"

The Hattress shivered.

"It's...not a pretty story..."

"I'm used to that."

Alice bit her lip, sighed, and began.

"I was fairly young when it happened...a lout by the name of Angus Bumby, studying under my father to be a psychiatrist, took a fancy to my older sister, Lizzie. She spurned him, but Bumby would not be denied: he raped her, stole the key to her room, knocked her unconscious, and left all of us to die after throwing an oil lamp into a wastebasket filled with flammable paper my father used in his photography hobby."

Alice paused.

"That's when you stopped seeing the Mad Hatter," Batman guessed. "He told me about that the first time I met him."

The Hattress nodded sadly.

"I went...crazy," she said. "That's all I can use to describe it: I felt...guilty. Helpless. Useless. I was locked away in Rutledge Asylum for many years...then Rabbit came. He told me I could help Wonderland, and myself..."

She wiped a tear from her eye with a metallic finger, then glared at her cyborganic arm as if it was somehow to blame.

"I couldn't. I'm sure Hatter told you what happened."

Batman nodded.

"I lost my parents, too. Mine were murdered by..."

He paused.

"...Somebody."

Alice raised an eyebrow.

"We're here," purred Cheshire, and sat on his haunches.

Batman and Alice looked around. They had come to a spot in the Wonderland Woods that had not yet been burned down. The trees were adorned with oriental ornaments, including paper lamps. Batman looked around for some sign of the Caterpillar.

"Where is he?"

"In the Oriental Grove, naturally."

"Which is where...?"

"Here," Cheshire said, and pointed with one claw.

Batman looked where he pointed.

There was silence.

"That's his hideaway?"

"What did you expect?"

"Not something the size, shape, and appearance of a smoking, moss-covered, model volcano, I'll tell you that..."


	38. Chapter 38

Notes: SOUNDTRACK CHANGED! The Wasp in the Wig really is a deleted scene/character from the original books, specifically _Through the Looking-Glass._ In here, she will be based – ironically, perhaps – on a deleted character from the game: the Wasp Empress.

**Chapter 38: Dynasty of Paper**

Batman stared at the small mound that was – apparently – the Oriental Grove; it looked like a model mountain, the top of it expelling smoke, like a volcano, covered in what appeared to be green moss. Upon closer inspection, he was only somewhat surprised by the fact that what appeared to be a small, golden cone on the top of the thing was really a miniature temple, and that the "mountain" was circled by a spiral staircase, which lead to a cave near the center of the place, and vanished.

It seemed to him there were actually things _moving_ in the Oriental Grove...

"I can get small enough easy," he murmered.

"As can I," said the Cheshire Cat. "As for you, dear Alice," he went on, eyeing her with a smirk. "Have you heard the saying that smoking stunts growth?"

"Of course. Many a sailor practically assaulted me with that adage back home...usually with a pipe stuck in their mouth."

"I won't ask you to INHALE," Cheshire said, shaking his head. "Simply allow the smoke to envelope you..."

As he spoke, the cat swatted at the smoke with one paw. The smoke broke apart, and the cloud actually reformed into four rings. Three of them floated away into nothingness, but one expanded, and then circled the Hattress. She gasped in astonishment as the ring magically transformed into a cylinder of smoke, growing thicker...

And then dissipating, with no Alice Liddell behind it.

"Mustn't keep the lady waiting, Batsy," Cheshire grinned. "The change has begun, as if this Vale of Doom wasn't enough to show you."

Batman glared at him half-heartedly.

"The Infernal Train is perfectly capable of worrying me, Cheshire. I don't need your help there."

He stared at the Grove, thinking about how small he wanted to be...

The next thing he knew, he was practically in another world.

At the proper size, the Oriental Grove was much larger. Batman stood at the foot of a great, grass-and-moss coated mountain, the stairs now spiraling towards an orange heaven. Clouds of smoke replaced clouds of water vapor, all shaped like Chinese letter characters. The scent of foreign incense and strange plants filled his nose. He was standing in what appeared to be an old village – now deserted – with buildings that had bamboo ceilings and walls that appeared to be made of parchment, all built in the stylings of old Asia. At the end of a narrow street was a gate, made of stone and inlaid with gold, but it was locked.

As Bruce Wayne, he had visited the Orient before; it was more modern now than what he saw before him.

For some reason, he felt this was better.

Naturally, the peacefulness was too good to last.

"Batman!" called the voice of the Hattress.

Batman looked, as Alice tumbled onto the street from behind a building.

Standing over her was a large, black, bluish-tinted wasp, wearing an Oni mask on its face. Glowing blue eyes shone behind the mask. It wore a yellow robe with a red belt, and its wings had been painted with images of real wasp heads. It moved on four legs, two clawed, black-blue arms holding a katana in both clawed "hands". Its antennae twitched erratically, and the large, bulging, bulbous area of its abdomen that held its stinger, which stuck out, glistening wetly with poison.

Alice lay on the ground, propped up on one hand, her Vorpal Blade held up defensively, top hat lying on the ground beside her. The Samurai Wasp made a buzzing noise, and raised its sword above its head.

Batman flung the bat-o-rang, knocking the blade out of the creatures hand.

The Wasp looked quickly to where its weapon had gone, just long enough for Alice to jump to her feet and plunge her knife through its thorax.

The Wasp let out a hissing scream...

And melted.

Alice stared, confused and disgusted all at once, at the black-and-blue puddle where the Wasp had been, while she picked up her hat, dusted it off, and put it firmly back on her head.

Cheshire swirled into view beside her, head cocked to one side.

"Well, that was interesting...it appears the Wasp in the Wig has returned."

"The who?" Batman asked, coming up.

"A deleted fiend from Carroll's text," Cheshire explained. "It didn't need to be published to become real...she was banished from Wonderland long before your first visit for trying to assassinate Caterpillar, and never was given permission to come back after you left. If she's here, then our oracle's new hideaway may not be quite as secure as we all thought..."

Batman touched the substance that the Wasp had become, dipping two gloved fingers into it and testing it between them and his thumb.

"It doesn't look like Ruin to me..." Alice whispered, crouching down beside him.

"Well, that's because it isn't, Mrs. Hatter," Cheshire said, leaning in closer and ignoring the glare the raven-haired girl flashed him at the nickname. "Unless my predatory senses deceive me, this is actually INK."

"Your right, as usual," Batman said. "First ghouls made from tar, metal, and doll parts, now wasp warriors made from ink. Will wonders never cease..."

"With all due respect, Mr. Wayne, I think that's why they called it 'Wonderland,'" Alice said flatly.

"Mr. Wayne?" whispered a voice.

All three turned.

A small, pale figure crept from behind a building near the gate. It, too, moved on four legs, and had two functioning arms...and was made entirely from folded paper. It had six painted eyes, and its face was folded to resemble a figure with a long beard and two curly antennae. Its hands resembled mittens, and it wore a straw hat and light gray robes. (The latter also made from paper.)

"As in..._Bruce_ Wayne? The mysterious Batman?"

"Yes," Batman said cautiously.

The paper creature clapped its hands together in joy.

"You can save us!" he cried out. "I am the Elder of the Origami Ants."

The paper insect bowed gracefully. The Cheshire Cat and Alice returned the gesture, and Batman, uncertainly, did the same.

"What's going on here?" Batman asked. "This village...why is it deserted?"

"The Wasp Empress," the Origami Ant Elder said grimly. "Formerly the infamous Wasp in the Wig. Her wicked swarms lay siege upon our peaceable village, and then took control of the peak that leads to the Sacred Caverns. The secret entrance to the strange and wise Caterpillar himself lies there, but the Empress knows not how to open it. Until she can figure it out, she shall never hold complete power over the Oriental Grove. My people fled the village in the hopes of escaping to higher ground...I have little doubt that they were captured."

"I need to speak to Caterpillar...how do I open them?"

The Elder's painted eyes actually formed into a narrowed glare.

"I cannot give you the secret, not now...and even if I could, you would not be able to use it yet. The Empress and her cruel minions guard the caverns fiercely. Unless you can destroy the source of her newfound army, and then defeat her in combat, nothing will save my people, and the Oriental Grove will be the next province in Wonderland to fall to the Ruin."

Batman sighed.

"Well, I suppose we'd best go to the mountaintop, as it won't be coming to us," grumbled Cheshire.

"I will open the gate to allow you passage...we believe Caterpillar, even in hiding, provides help in subtle ways to those who need it most. Someday, my people and I will have proof. Whatever you do, do not fail to look behind you for even a moment. Best of wishes on your journey!"

Without another word, the Elder pulled on a small lever – it looked like a pin – and the golden gates opened. Batman, Alice, and the Cheshire Cat nodded their thanks to the paper bug, and began the climb up the stairs.

Far above them, a figure watched them with multi-lensed eyes, a savage glint in them apparent.

"Well," buzzed the Wasp Empress. "This izzz most upsetting..."

She turned to one of her guards, a Daimyo Wasp bearing a spear and clad in thick, golden armor.

"Send out the Archerzzz."


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39: Spilled Ink**

Batman and Alice Liddell continued the climb up the mountain of the Oriental Grove. The odd, peaceful state of the venture was more disturbing than any enemy could be in the Dark Knight's mind; he was so used to expecting the unexpected and/or grotesque, such peace was beginning to worry him.

The Hattress smirked in his direction.

"Well, Cheshire was right about one thing," she murmered.

Batman turned toward her, an eyebrow raised in question.

"We're all mad here," Alice explained. "You can't stand the idea of something NOT being out to get you, can you?"

"Something always is," Batman said, simply. "In case you forget, we're on our way to fight a giant wasp queen, and an army of wasp drones made from ink who carry swords. Not meeting anything right now feels...unsettling."

The Hattress simply shrugged.

There was some silence.

"Why bats, Mr. Wayne?"

"Hm?"

"Your outfit...why choose a bat?"

Batman paused.

"Bats are something I feared as a child," he said, monotonously. "And, to a certain degree, they are the reason I am who I am. When I made my vow to avenge my parents, by making sure no one went through what I did again, or worse, I wanted something that would scare criminals. Nothing seemed more frightening to me than a giant bat..."

The Hattress eyed him with a strange glint in her eyes.

"Do you miss them?"

"Who?"

"Your parents?"

There was silence.

"All the time."

Alice nodded and sighed.

"Me, too."

"Well, aren't we the sentimental saps, all of a sudden?"

A chorused groan came from the mouths of Alice and the Caped Crusader.

"Must your harassment of us continue, cat?" snarled Alice, a hand on the hilt of her Vorpal Blade.

"Will it keep you focused on the matters at hand?" the Cheshire Cat countered; he had vanished a while back.

TWANG!

All three stopped, as a long, turkey-feathered arrow slammed into the dirt between the stones of the steps they climbed.

They looked up.

A quartet of blue-black Ink Wasps hovered above them, wearing robes of red rather than yellow, but still wearing the familiar Oni masks and with the same designs on their wings. Each carried a long, curved bow in two claws, while two others acted as arms, and the last two acted as their legs.

"Such as..." growled Cheshire, and promptly vanished.

One of the Wasp Archers reached back with both "hands," and pulled out two arrows. He knocked one, fired, and then did the same with the second.

The first arrow was barely dodged by Alice. Batman flung a bat-o-rang at the second, slicing it in half almost immediately after it left the bow; the Archers' speed was phenomenal, but the arrows were relatively easy to avoid.

The other three archers now knocked arrows of their own into position at a buzzing, barking noise from the first – a command, no doubt – and then all four opened fire. Batman and Alice broke into a run as they dashed up the steps to the Sacred Caverns, where the secret path to Caterpillar's lair was.

The Wasp Archers followed them easily, their arrows raining down like feathered hailstones.

Alice pulled out a Clockwork Bomb from her pockets. She tossed it upwards; the blast practically evaporated two of the archers, and their melted, inky bodies rained down onto the ground, followed by their bows and quivers, which rattled as they hit the stairs.

Two more Archers remained. The Hattress, unable to move fast enough out of the vulnerable position her attack had left her in, got an arrow in the shoulder. Weakly, she moved away from a second. Batman launched a smoke bomb into the air, and the Wasp Archers made hissing sounds as they coughed and tried to see their targets.

The Vorpal Blade seemed to come out of nowhere, and one of the two Archers fell.

Now, only one of the Wasps was left. Rather than continue his work, he apparently decided to make a tactical retreat...

Which failed, when a bola flew from Batman's direction, wrapping itself up around the ink-formed monster, sending it plummeting down the mountainside, out of sight.

The Cheshire Cat reappeared, and inspected Alice's wound.

"Hmm...not terribly serious," he muttered. "Here, Batsy, help me out..."

Batman crouched down, and propped up the Hattress, who clutched her wounded, organic shoulder with her mechanical hand.

Cheshire held up a small branch, and put it in front of Alice's face.

"Bite down on this," he said in a serious voice.

Alice eyed him skeptically, but did as she was told.

"Bruce," said the cat, "whatever happens, don't let her go. And Alice? I beg of you, right now, do not struggle, and don't scream. Just brace yourself, and bite down on that stick as hard as you can, because this. Is. Really. Going. To. HURT."

And, so saying, the cat stabbed a claw into Alice Liddell's shoulder, and began to cut around the wound.

The pain was excruciating. Alice's teeth soon broke through the branch in her mouth, but she could not scream. Her mouth hung open in pained silence, eyes clenched tightly shut, tears making their way from them.

Soon enough, however, the pain subdued, as Cheshire pulled the arrow from her arm.

"There," he hissed, spitting it out and tossing his head slightly. "I trust you have something to bandage this with, Batsy?"

Batman, without saying a single word, pulled a roll of bandaging tape from his utility belt, and wrapped up Alice's shoulder with it...but not before dabbing something onto the wound to keep it from getting infected.

The Hattress stood and moved her arm. It stung...but she'd have to get used to it.

Alice smirked at the Cheshire Cat.

"So, you're not entirely useless, then?"

"No, Alice," said Cheshire, grinning as usual. "Not entirely. Now, let's get moving..."

Back upstairs...literally...the Wasp Empress growled, a claw twisting into the blonde wig upon her head.

"My elite archerzzz, defeated so eazzzily..."

She turned once more to her Daimyo guard.

"Tell the Hive its buzzziness azzz usual; get the Samurai together. We shall have to deal with this bothersome Bat and the Mad Hatter's little pet ourselvezzz."


	40. Chapter 40

Notes:  Another Battle Chapter! Just a quick news flash: there is a sort of "prequel" to this series up, titled _No Room, No Room!_ It tells the origins of my OC, the March Hare, from the Gotham City scenes. I'm not sure how many people are interested in reading this, or have read it already...mainly because I have only received one review for the story. Please, remember to look at it (only the first chapter is up, so far) and tell me what you think! Also, the poem/puzzle used here is _The White Queen's Riddle,_ from the original stories by Lewis Carroll. I own it not. Now...

**Chapter 40: Dancing in a Hornets Nest**

The climb up the hundred stairs to the Sacred Caverns in the Oriental Grove had been tiring, but, after the encounter with the Wasp Archers, otherwise uneventful.

Too easy.

As Batman and the Hattress approached the top of the stairs, and the entrance to the caves, a welcoming party was there to greet them.

Four Ink Wasps, each dressed in golden samurai armor and wielding a spear, raced toward them. Their eyes glowed behind their helmets, and they buzzed in agitation.

Batman flung a bat-o-rang, and, as it arced around, two of the Daimyo Wasps lost their spears. The inky insects zoomed forward, now aiming their stingers at the Dark Knight.

Alice flung a handful of her Jacks O' Death at the oncoming Daimyos, and the ground quickly was splattered with ink.

The remaining two Daimyo Wasps attacked with their weapons. One of them lunged at Alice, who quickly parried the strike with her Vorpal Blade. The enchanted chef's knife masterfully blocked two more strikes, before the Wasp suddenly withdrew and spun around, two of its legs sweeping under her own and knocking her to the ground.

The second Daimyo steadily approached Batman, twirling its weapon around its head. Batman dodged from side to side as the bladed ends of the double-edged weapon sliced into his direction, looking for an opening. The Daimyo gave this opening when it flourished its spear after a spin. Batman launched a punch at its face, his fist managing to make it through the open visor of the helmet. The Wasp buzzed angrily, clutching its face, and stabbed its spear in Batman's direction. The Caped Crusader easily managed to duck the attack, and stabbed a bat-o-rang into the abdomen of the bug. It screamed, its inky heart pierced, and then fell dead before melting into a black-blue puddle.

Meanwhile, the Hattress managed to slide out of the way of a downward strike from the Daimyo that attacked her, going straight between its many legs, stabbing her own knife into its abdomen. The result was the same.

The way into the caverns now unbarred, Batman and Alice entered the caves.

The two of them found themselves inside a great, circular, main cavern, with enormous Chinese theater masks surrounding them, their open mouths revealing other tunnels. Between these masks were paintings of the Oriental Grove. Circling the entire area were stone tablets, like tombstones in the dirt, each painted onto with Chinese text. Above their heads, they saw a great number of cages.

And, in these cages, hung the Origami Ants, shaking the bars in a futile attempt at escape. Their bodies were the same as the Elder's, but their heads were cubical, with two eyes painted on the front face, and the rest painted on the tops of their heads. Two extra folds below this cube formed what looked like mandibles, and, as their name implied, they seemed to be made of nothing but paper.

At, directly opposite of Alice and Batman, was the Wasp Empress herself.

She wore regal white robes, and stood on two legs, the other four limbs acting as arms, much like her Archers had. Unlike her soldiers, her black form was genuine, complete with an exoskeleton. Perched on the "shoulders" of her upper two arms were two bamboo rods, and attached to them were two masks. The mask on the left was that of a Chinese female, with pale skin, red lips curved into a coy smile, and make-up on her eyes. On the right was a red Oni mask. The Empress herself wore a mask over her face, with green "skin," large ears, and a crooked nose that reminded Batman very much of a Madcap, save for the tusks in its mouth. The eyes behind this mask were red.

Each of the three masks bore a wig, attached to its lining: the red Oni mask had wild, silver hair, the mask of the smiling woman had curly red hair, and the Empress' mask had stringy blonde hair.

Her wings bore no printing, and in each of her four claws she carried a katana. Her stinger was hook-shaped, and Batman was certain the red stains on her abdomen were from blood.

"So," she buzzed softly. "Batman, izzz it?"

"The Wasp in the Wig," Batman said in recognition. "Now the Wasp Empress, yes?"

"Yes. Why have you come here?"

"We seek Caterpillar," Alice said. "As do you."

"I seek to destroy the Caterpillar," corrected the Empress, holding up one katana threateningly. "If you are with him, you are my enemiezzz."

"What did the Dollmaker offer you?"

Alice looked at Batman, confused.

"Mr. Wayne?" she whispered.

The Dark Knight ignored her.

"What did he say he would give you? Control over the Oriental Grove, in return for your help? He gave you your inky army...what was in it for him?"

The Wasp Empress eyed him uneasily.

"Who izzz this Dollmaker you speak of?"

"He won't give you what you want," Batman went on. "Whoever he is, he wants to destroy Wonderland. That includes you."

The Wasp's eyes widened, then narrowed again.

"Not if I destroy him first...after you, that izzz. Children! Exterminate thezzze intruderzzz!"

Suddenly, the tablets that circled the room began to glow purple. The floated upwards into the air, above their queen's head. There were eight of them, and, from each one, the painted letters suddenly became more dimensional, and actually _drifted from the tablet _until it floated, free formed in the air. The texts came together...

The Cheshire Cat hissed as he swirled into view, crouched down, ready to kill.

"Those letters aren't letters," he snarled.

He was right, of course: as the letters came together, each tablet's text formed a Samurai Ink Wasp, in yellow robes, bearing a sword.

"We have to hit the tablets," Cheshire growled. "The Ink Wasps are spawning from the stone tablets! They need to be destroyed!"

Without another word, the cat pounced upon one of the newly formed wasps. His claws sank deep, and, before the inky insect could move, he fell to ground and melted. The tablet from whence he came, began to glow again...

Until an explosive capsule shattered it.

The Wasp Empress buzzed angrily, wings twitching in rage.

"My soldierzzz! Take care of the girl and the cat! Leave this bothersome bat to me!"

Batman whipped out two bat-o-rangs as the Wasp Empress ran toward him.

Alice and the Cat, meanwhile, began their own battle. The cat leapt onto the backs of the Wasps that flew toward him, sinking his teeth into their inky bodies, before spitting in disgust. Alice slashed this way and that with her blade, dodging and blocking katana strikes before stabbing her opponents through the eyes, the abdomen, the arms, the legs...wherever she saw exposed skin...er, ink.

But, with every Samurai Wasp that fell dead, another would take its place.

"Hit the tablets, Alice!" Cheshire growled in reminder.

_"Patience is a virtue, virtue is a grace!"_ quoth the Hattress, and flung a Clockwork Bomb at the tablets. Three of them were destroyed.

The Wasp Empress slashed downward with two of her swords, while the other two lunged forward. Batman dodged and ducked, and slashed at her thorax. The robes she wore tore, but she was otherwise unharmed. The Empress' stringy yellow hair slipped in front of her eyes as she lashed out a kick, sending Batman sprawling. Her lower two arms formed a scissor shape with her blades, and she struck out, snapping them shut. Batman rolled away to avoid losing his head. He flung the two bat-o-rangs. One of them stuck in the smiling mask, while the other was cut apart by a katana. The Empress flew forward, all four katanas held ready to attack.

With four of the tablets still left, the Ink Wasps now came at twice their usual speed. The Cheshire Cat snapped his teeth shut around a katana blade, and spun around, sending an Ink Wasp flying...right onto the raised sword of another wasp. The surprised samurai was quickly slashed through the thorax by Alice. She wiped away some ink that had spattered onto her cheek.

_"Grace is a little girl who wouldn't wash her face..."_

She darted forward, finding an opening among the inky ranks. A single Samurai Wasp barred her way, striking fast with its sword...but not fast enough, as Alice Liddell dropped down and sliced its abdomen in half. The broken off stinger twitched, while its owner hissed, and then melted into nothingness. Alice practically threw herself upon the tablets. The magical blade of her knife sliced through the stone scripts like butter.

Two more down, two to go.

The Wasp Empress landed. She spun her two lower blades around with a flourish, and then performed a chopping slash with one of her upper arm blades. Batman used two bat-o-rang blades to block the spinning blades, and dodged the chop. He ducked down to avoid a horizontal slash from another katana, and hit the ground.

The hook-shaped stinger of the Wasp in the Wig began to stab itself into the dirt. Batman rolled out of the way, and lunged upward.

The blade of his bat-o-rang missed its target, his arm thrown off course by a jarring strike from a katana handle, but managed to pierce through the lower thorax of the Empress.

The Empress screamed and flew a short distance away, greenish-white insect blood dripping from her wound.

She heard a loud, crackling sound, and both she and Batman turned to see what was going on.

The Hattress had flung her Demon Dice, and the flames they produced had managed to catch all of the Ink Wasps still in play. Alice approached the last two tablets...

"NO!" shrieked the Empress, and flew towards her...

She cried out again as the Cheshire Cat appeared out of nowhere, tackling the enormous bug queen to the floor. The Wasp Empress hissed and kicked the emaciated feline away...

But it was too late.

Alice pulled out her Hobby Horse, and smashed the final two tablets.

The Empress screamed with fury, and flung herself upon the girl.

"The Ruin will not leave me defenseless!" she hissed. "This izzz not over!"

"Oh, yes, it is!" snarled Batman from behind her, and flung a bat-o-rang in her direction. The blade sunk into her abdomen. The Wasp in the Wig screamed again, this time in pain...

As the Vorpal Blade snapped upwards, and slashed her exposed throat.

With a final buzz, the headless body of the Wasp Empress crumpled to the ground.

Cheshire sighed.

"Neglected not only by our maker, but by most of our shapers as well...it's no wonder she sided with the Ruin."

"Have you succeeded?"

All three turned.

The Origami Ant Elder peeked from behind the entrance of the Sacred Caverns.

His painted eyes lit up with joy at the sight of his people, hanging above him, cheering over the death of the defeated Wasp in the Wig. They grew even more delighted at the sight of the broken tablets and the dead queen.

"We are saved!" he cried out. "Oh, frabjous day!"

"We've helped you, and your friends," Batman said. "How do I find Caterpillar?"

"Take the cavern farthest to the left," said the Elder, pointing at the tunnel in question. "It will lead you to a door, locked by a puzzle. Solve the puzzle, and you will find the secret path that leads to Caterpillar's hideaway. Our many thanks for your courageous deed!"

The Elder bowed deeply...so deeply, in fact, his hat nearly fell off.

Batman could only roll his eyes.

"We'll free these incense-scented insects," purred Cheshire. "Go find Caterpillar, and meet us back here."

Batman nodded. He went for the path, masked by a smiling Oni. The tunnel sloped upwards gradually, then downwards, then upwards again before becoming straight. He came to a turn in the pathway...

And there, dead ahead of him, illuminated by torches that were set in torch-bearers that resembled Chinese fans, was a door that with a knob that resembled a Yin-Yang. On it was a plaque, and the plaque read thusly...

_**"First the fish must be caught!" That is easy: a baby, I think, could have caught it. "Next, the fish must be bought!" That is easy: a penny, I think, would have bought it.**_

_** "Now, cook me the fish!" That is easy, and will not take more than a minute. "Let it lie in a dish!" That is easy, because it already is in it.**_

**_ "Bring it here! Let me sup!" It is easy to set such a dish on the table. "Take the dish cover up!" Ah, _that _is so hard that I fear I'm unable!_**

_** For it holds it like glue...holds the lid to the dish, while it lies in the middle: which is easiest to do? Un-dish-cover the fish, or discover the riddle?**_

__It took only a minute for Batman to figure the puzzle out; were it not for constant encounters with a certain question-mark loving villain and the fact he had just left the Deluded Depths, it might have proved much more difficult.

"The answer is an oyster," he said.

The plaque's letters suddenly glowed a bright, glaring white, and then vanished, replaced by the following...

_**Welcome, Batman. I've been waiting.**_


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41: A Caterpillar Who Needs a Light...**

The door opened of its own accord. Batman found himself looking at yet another flight of stairs. Slowly, warily, he began to climb.

When he got to the top, he found himself staring at a great, golden temple. The doors to this temple were closed when he saw it, but, as he drew closer, they opened up with an ominous creak.

Batman slowly entered the temple.

The interior was truly bear...save for one thing: an enormous, bronze statue of Caterpillar himself, seated upon his mushroom, smoking a hookah. The statue's hookah seemed to be the cause of the smoke that surrounded the entirety of the Oriental Grove.

Batman crossed his arms, confused.

"I've come all this way to find a simulacrum?"

Then a familiar, shallow, cold voice echoed around him...

_"If I had the time,"_ said Caterpillar's voice, _"I'd detail how often you prefer dealing with illusions, rather than the real thing! Problems you refuse to deal with don't exist...you deny reality!"_

"Wrong," Batman growled. "I know what's real."

_"No,"_ Caterpillar said sagely. _"You allow OTHERS to tell you what isn't real. Now, come inside..."_

Without warning, the floor beneath Batman gave way as a trapdoor opened up.

He fell with a short yell of surprise, and grunted in pain as he hit the ground before looking around.

He was in an underground chamber, with a great, spiraling stone ramp curling towards the ceiling. Cobwebs were everywhere, as if a giant, trapdoor spider had made its nest there, and then left without a word.

High above, Batman could see...something hanging from the ceiling. Something gray and sausage shaped...

"Climb up here," came Caterpillar's voice from somewhere above him. "Let us talk face to face, while there is still time."

Batman sighed softly at the notion of climbing upwards yet again, but relented and hurriedly walked up the steps.

At the top, he found out just what the gray, mushy, sausage-like thing was...

Wrapped up completely in a cocoon, save for his face, was Caterpillar.

"What's going on here?"

"I have come to the end of this time in my life; I am preparing to change. But, for better or worse, means for good."

There was a pause.

"I know why you are here," said Caterpillar, his voice still like a frosty wind, "but I cannot begin if you do not start."

"My memories feel...shattered," said Batman. "Things I thought I knew are being proven wrong, and things I never considered are becoming suspect to doubt."

"What sort of things?"

"The night...I chose to be who I am, for example."

"What of it?"

Batman paused before going on.

"That night...someone shot my parents. For years, my mind told it me it was someone specific...someone I never knew. Told me he was dead. Told me things that weren't true: my mother never wore her pearl necklace...she saved it for special occasions. I thought it had been worn that night, but it was just her rosary...she wore that all the time. But...I never saw the rosary. I never even saw Chill...I just saw a man...and a necklace..."

There was silence.

"It seems that this Infernal Train is out to destroy all you know," said Caterpillar coolly. "Your recollection of your memories is due to your efforts to stop it."

"Yes, but so much has changed already...I cannot help you if I cannot help myself."

"Much HAS changed," Caterpillar agreed. "But you've got it backwards: saving Wonderland means saving yourself. The Mad Hatter and the Carpenter were both onto something...but they were hiding from the real! Your goal is to _accept_ it."

"Where must I go?"

The Caterpillar smirked. Batman had a feeling he knew what he was going to say...

He hated being proven right when Caterpillar spoke.

"The Knave must be humored, Bruce. The Knave, and all his guises, must. Be. Humored."

Batman growled softly.

"The Knave of Hearts is my darkest side," he said icily. "How can he stem this madness? How can he help me in any way?"

"He represents more than you know: he is the equivalent to one of your greatest Earthly failures. As I am testament to," Caterpillar added, glancing at his own cocoon, which closed in around his face, "Time changes us all."

"Not all change is good," was the curt response.

"Ah...remember THAT when you find the Knave," said Caterpillar with a wry smile. "Farewell, for now, Bruce Wayne..."

And the chrysalis closed around Caterpillar's eyes and mouth...

And he spoke no more. Batman stared at the cocooned Oracle of Wonderland for a bit longer, then began the descent back down the ramp.

He'd use the grappling hook to get out...

Then he'd head straight into the jaws of Cerberus.

_Wonderful._


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42: Many Strange Experiments**

Professor Hugo Strange smiled as he hung up the phone. He checked his watch.

"Plenty of time," he muttered.

_Better leave now, before those freaks start talking about White Rabbits and whatnot..._

He picked up his cane and took the derby hat off the hat rack.

_But first, a quick check..._

Strange walked out of the office. He headed down the hall.

He never noticed the two figures hidden in the shadows: one in black and blue, the other in red, yellow, and green.

"You check Strange's office," said Nightwing. "I'll tail him myself. We'll leave in twenty minutes, give or take, and meet up with Cat at the manor. _Capiche?_"

"Got it," whispered Robin, and pulled a lock-pick set out of his belt. Within ten seconds, he was in the office.

Nightwing nodded to himself and quietly dashed off in the direction Strange had gone.

He spotted the professor turning a corner. He ran a little faster.

He paused, half-hidden behind the corner of a wall, crouched down, as the professor entered the room.

To Dick's joy, it began to close, but remained ajar...probably not intentionally.

Nightwing cautiously crept toward the door, a hand clutching one of his Eskrima sticks. He slowly, gently pushed it open a bit more; as the first Robin and a bona fide crimefighter himself now, Dick Grayson had had many experiences with cracked-open doors. Some of them squeaked, some of them stuck, and some of them smacked into bells or activated electronic alarms.

To his delight, no sound at all erupted.

He checked a small, dark wristwatch, worn over his glove.

Still time before he had to report back to Tim.

He took a deep breath and headed inside.

The door opened into a dark hallway. There was light, but it was very dim.

As he continued to move, he could hear a voice ahead, mumbling softly...probably the shady professor himself.

Nightwing finally spotted a bend in the hall that was more brightly lit than others.

He hid behind the corner again and peeked around.

He gaped at the sight of a little girl, holding a teddy bear under one arm, staring blankly at the ceiling...lying on what looked like a very large operating table, at least seven times her width and height. There were no restraints, and the girl wore nothing but a loose nighty.

And, nearby, wearing his suit and nothing else, save for a pair of rubber gloves, was Hugo Strange, setting up what looked like an injection needle.

Nightwing silently pulled a small video recording device from his belt, and aimed it toward the center of the room, so he could catch most, if not all, that happened.

"Thank you for joining me for this quick session, Mary Anne," said Strange in a soft, soothing, almost dreamy-sounding voice. "You really don't know what this means to me."

The girl said nothing. Did nothing. She did not even blink.

"Do you see this?" asked Strange, holding the needle toward her face.

The girl paused, and then nodded, very, very slowly.

**"Yes, professor,"** she said, her voice monotonous and mechanical.

"It's a special medicine," Strange said with a smile, and absent-mindedly began running the fingers of one gloved hand through her short, blonde hair. "Now that we've made all the bad things in your head go away, this little shot will make your body even better than it is. You will be a stronger girl, now."

**"Thank you, professor."**

Strange chuckled and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"That's a good girl," he said in a comforting voice. "Now, I hope you realize you're the first female experiment I've been able to work with, yes?"

**"I understand, professor."**

"Perfect," said Strange. "Such a sweet, delicious child..."

He kissed her again, this time on the cheek.

Nightwing grimaced.

"Now, before we begin, will you do me a favor?"

The girl nodded again.

"Recite," said the professor simply, firmly, his sickly-sweet, almost fatherly voice gone.

The girl (finally) blinked, and slowly sat up.

Nightwing moved a little farther back, not entirely sure what would happen if she saw him.

"If" being the key word.

The girl folded her hands – still holding her teddy bear under one arm – and began:

**"The train is coming, with its shiny cars; with comfy seats, and wheels of stars. So hush, my little ones, have no fear: the Man in the Moon is the engineer."**

"All aboard," Strange said with a smile and a nod. "Now lie down, and just relax: this will only hurt a little..."

The girl slowly lay back down.

Strange pulled up the sleeve of her nighty, on the side where she did not hold her toy.

He dabbed an anesthetic onto her deltoid region, and practically stabbed the needle into her arm.

The girl had absolutely no reaction.

Nightwing shuddered.

Then Strange backed up, removing his gloves and putting the now empty injection vial aside, and watched the results with a smirk.

For about three seconds, nothing happened.

Then Nightwing covered his mouth with his free hand, forcing himself not vomit, as the girl, still silent, suddenly began to change shape...grow larger, thicker...her skin became almost scaly and turned gray...her eyes began to bug out, perhaps in pain...

She convulsed, but never a sound did she utter...

Then, after about forty seconds, she suddenly stopped moving, and lay still...the transformation stopped about halfway, her body patched with gray, scaly, tough skin and fair, normal, rosy flesh...her eyes bloodshot and small, but the rest of her face untouched...one arm larger than the other, and one foot hideously malformed...her nighty split right down the middle...

Nightwing saw the bear fall from her hand.

Strange was silent for a moment, then he sighed and moved over to the other side, picking up the teddy bear.

"Subject 077: failure," he said to himself. "Some slight alterations to the initial formula may be required. It is possible that the pheromones in the female specimen's body, which differ from the male's, may also be at fault, or may be the only fault. Further experimentation is required."

He threw the teddy bear in the trash.

Then, to Nightwing's disgust, he kissed the deceased and deformed girl on the cheek again...then backed away, flipped a switch, and watched as a hole opened up in the floor. The operating table tipped over, and dumped the corpse of the child into the hole.

Nightwing turned off the recorder, and quietly darted away.

He had seen _quite_ enough.

Robin left the office, holding a small stack of papers, and a manilla folder.

He saw Nightwing approaching fast. His face – what was visible of it – was pale as a sheet, and he looked ill.

"I found some things," he said, holding up the items in his hand.

"So did I," said Dick.

"Nothing good?"

"No," said Nightwing. "And we're going home on foot or in some sort of vehicle."

"I'll arrange a stylish pick-up via Batmobile," smiled Tim, then cocked his head to one side. "Why the sudden fear of heights?"

"Because I'm already woozy, and swinging around the city is not going to help that any."

"That bad?"

"Worse. We'll call Cat and Alfred on the way...we've got a long way to go till we find Bruce, but-"

Footsteps, moving closer, interrupted them.

Professor Hugo Strange looked around, curious, at the empty area near his office, a hand in one pocket...and not idly.

"Hmmm..." he murmered. "Funny...I could have sworn I heard someone whispering..."

He shrugged it off and left the building, driving off in an old-fashioned black sudan.

He never noticed the two figures on the roof watching him go.

"Hope Selina figured out where he's heading," muttered Robin.

"Me, too, Tim. Me, too."


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43: Hearts as Black as Spades**

A small boy listens outside the locked door of his family's study. He winces at the angry tones his parents and their visitor are using..

About fifteen minutes ago, a strange man with a goatee and dark glasses demanded entrance.

The boy is four years old.

And the mystery man is obviously very angry.

"How could you do this?" he screams, voice only slightly muffled by the door. "How could the two of you have...have...HIM?"

"His name is Bruce, Strange," snarls the voice of his father. "And I'll thank you not to speak to my wife like that."

"Oh, yes. Of course," Strange responds...the boy can hear the sneer in his voice. "Your wife. _Your WIFE._"

There was a slight pause.

"Why, Martha?" asks the stranger, his voice now piteous. "Why HIM? Why not me? I thought..."

"You thought wrong, _Hugo,_" snaps the mother. "I never loved you. And you're nuts. You chased me around like a dog chases a fox, and, in case you forget, you nearly raped me!"

"I...I thought you would want it..."

"That's it!" bellows the father. "Alfred! Remove this man from the premises!"

Bruce backs away, hiding behind a couch just outside the door, as Alfred, the butler, stiffly exits the room, grasping the man with the goatee by the ear.

The man's dark glasses are lopsided. He quickly catches a glimpse of Bruce.

"YOU!" he shrieks. "YOU'RE THE REASON!"

Bruce whimpers. His mother, who has also left the room, moves over and picks him up.

"I SWEAR TO YOU, WAYNE!" screams Strange, as he is dragged away. "IF I COULDN'T HAVE HER, I'LL HAVE YOUR SON! YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH THIS! THIS ISN'T OVER YET, TOM! MARTHA!"

The screaming only stops after the sound of the door opening and slamming shut echoes throughout Wayne Manor.

_**"Batman..."**_

__Batman shook his head fast. He looked over at the Hattress, who eyed him concernedly.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, just...daydreaming..."

Alice shrugged.

The two had camped out in the Land of Fire and Brimstone the night before. Now they were approaching Queensland, former residence of the Queen of Hearts...

Current residence of the Knave of Hearts.

Batman's eyes narrowed, a mental picture of the Knave's wild green hair and manic smile popping up.

As they drew closer, it was clear that, unlike the rest of Wonderland, the realm of the royal Hearts had not "healed" after Batman's first adventure...like an open wound, it had only festered and grown infected.

The entire land was in ruins...the immense Heart Palace had fallen apart, pieces of the building scattered everywhere. The Majestic Maze was still mostly intact, though all the plants were dead and long dried up. The tentacles that had surrounded everything, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, were in the same state. Body parts and the gooey, pinkish substance that had seemingly held the castle together were splattered everywhere. The walls of what still remained intact were crumbling, and the blood that had once saturated the place, making it stink of copper at every turn, was now all dried and blackened.

"Well," murmered Alice, looking around appraisingly. "It seems you certainly did quite a number on the wicked Queen."

"Indeed? Back to admire your handiwork, Bruce?"

The Cheshire Cat appeared on the road in front of them. He was grinning, as always, but his eyes looked serious...almost somber.

"You really are quite bold," he continued solemnly. "Returning to the scene of the crime, as it were."

"You speak as if it was senseless murder," Alice said, narrowing her bright green eyes suspiciously.

"It wasn't. But they were two parts of the same psyche."

Here he smirked at Batman.

"So where does that leave you, anyway?"

"It had to be done, Cheshire," Batman said, emotionless. "You said so yourself: 'you and this Red Queen cannot both survive. You are two sides of the same...'"

Batman trailed off, and drew a finger across his throat.

Alice looked at him, and then the Cheshire Cat, with a sense of shock.

"You...you mean...?"

The cat suddenly seemed very uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, looking off slightly to the side.

"Coin...I was about to say coin..."

"I figured."

"She WAS the voice of evil for the Heart of Darkness...completely deranged. You picked up the crown...but now you've put it down. We must find the Knave...what's left of him anyway."

And then the cat vanished.

Alice growled quietly.

_"Ding, dong, dell, pussy's in the well...who put him in? Little Herman Green..."_

"You don't trust him."

It was spoken as a statement, not a question, on the Caped Crusader's part.

Alice sighed, and smiled apologetically.

"Cats are not known for their altruism," she said simply. "He plays games with everyone and everything...always has. Hatter never really liked him...neither did I. He's an annoying little sod."

"On the last part, I have to agree."

The two fell silent, and continued on.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44: City of the Damned**

As Batman and Alice Liddell approached the gates of Queensland, they found themselves in for a shock...

"The White King!" hissed Alice, horrified.

Batman glared as he looked up at where her mechanical hand pointed: rather than the spiked, iron gate that had once closed off Queensland, he saw a mass of thorny branches, with dead roses on them, wrapped around the body of the White King. The thorns – and the King – blocked off the entrance.

The King made no sound at first...his arms had apparently been cut off, and his left cheek was branded with the image of a heart surrounded by flames: the sign of the Knave of Hearts. He wore the same robes, and the same crown, Batman had seen him in last time...his cape was torn to shreds by thorns, and his robes were filled with holes, thorns going through them...and, to his horror, seemingly through his body.

The King's stony chest moved in and out...he was alive.

But, as his eyes were closed, he was probably sleeping.

"Your Majesty?" whispered Alice.

The King's eyes opened slowly. He smiled sadly at Alice, and then eyed Batman.

"Greetings to you both," he said, his voice a rusty-sounding, shallow whisper. "I wish we could have met again under different circumstances."

"What are you doing here?" asked Batman.

"When the Ruin infected Wonderland, the Knave somehow returned...he was weakened, though. My brother, who had come to see the true nature of his past allegiance, agreed to a truce, and, together, we and our forces stormed Queensland...but we were set upon by her monstrosities. The malignant, royal, grinning ghoul still lives."

"Talking about me, then?" purred Cheshire, swirling into view.

"I was referring to the Knave," said the King, glaring at the feline.

"We've come to...petition him, so to speak," said Alice.

"How do we get in?" asked Batman.

The King looked at him for a while, not saying anything.

"The only way in," he said at length, "is through me."

There was a heavy pause.

"Sacrifices must be made, in chess and salvation," growled Cheshire, head bowed.

"Those who say so usually mean they are to be made by others," snarled Alice, drawing her Vorpal Blade.

"Leave him, Alice," said the King. "Cynicism is a disease: it can be cured."

"Isn't there any other way?" asked the Dark Knight, trying to remain impassive, but not wholly succeeding.

"No, I'm afraid not...but it matters little to me. I've died before, I'll die again. I'm a chessman: we're used to it. Once the Ruin is expelled, I shall be brought back anew, as I have been in many a battle with my brother. Once you are inside, beware of the outsized killer that patrols the Maze: we found him to be unstoppable, as only one larger than he can defeat him."

"Who?"

"The Executioner," said the King grimly. "The Knave's 'replacement' for the Jabberwock...while he was resurrected, he was weakened, as I said before, and his guardian, it seems, was not so lucky. The new one rarely leaves his filthy layer...but we were, and you are, very special."

"Some gift," growled Batman.

"Cut me loose," said the King, almost pleading now. "Attack any of the vines you wish. My suffering has gone on for far too long."

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Alice, blade still drawn, stepped forward...

Only to be stopped by a hand from the Dark Knight.

"What? You heard what he said," snapped the Hattress.

"Is there any way to set you free WITHOUT killing you?"

"I wish there were," said the White King. "The Knave has enchanted these accursed briars...I am fused to them. The instant one dies, I go to. If I die, they go with me. The thorns provide me with only the barest of nourishment, like injection needles...please, release me! I know the meaning of sacrifice. I'll show it to you."

Batman hesitated...

Which gave the Hattress just enough time to break free and stab her knife into one of the vines.

The King let out an unearthly scream...then both he and the other vines crumbled into dust.

Alice cleaned off her blade and sheathed it.

"There was no other choice," she said coldly.

"You didn't..."

"No. YOU didn't," snapped Alice, eyes flashing bitterly, and she walked through the portal into the maze.

Batman paused, then followed. Cheshire walked alongside him.

"It's better this way, Bruce," he purred. "The White King will rise again...chess pieces always do. It will simply take longer for him."

"I don't like taking any life...even here."

"Yet you do it constantly."

"Here I have no choice...you people have drilled that into me. Still, if I can find a way around it, I'll take it."

"You say so, but I'm not sure I believe you, Batsy."

They stopped.

"What do you mean?"

"How often do you think of him?" asked Cheshire abruptly. "And don't think you don't know who I'm talking about."

"I don't."

"Well, here is a quick description: white skin, red lips, green hair, purple suit...smiles just like me?"

There was a pause.

"All the time."

"Never good thoughts. This world is your mind's world, remember? I have often gotten the feeling that the violence here is due to such thoughts."

Batman pondered this for just a moment.

A piercing scream broke him off.

He and the Cheshire Cat ran ahead.

Batman stared, surprised, to say the least: The Hattress was locked in combat with a Spade Card Guard.

The Card Guard's body was still flat and oblong, wearing the same gloves and boots and hood, and carrying a bloodstained, jagged-bladed axe.

But the face under the hood of the Card was...well, gone. Only a skull remained. Tears in the Card's gloves allowed skeletal fingers to be seen.

Alice dodged a swing of the Card Guard's axe, and then slashed with her blade. The Card Guard stood still for about a second...then fell apart.

Batman and the cat approached as the Hattress wiped her knife's blade on her apron.

"Not the happiest of dead fellows, I take it," purred Cheshire.

**"Since when have any of them been?"**

All froze, looking around for the familiar, rocky voice.

"It seems your security measures have gotten drier, Knave," called out Cheshire.

**"Heh...very droll, kitten. I take it Bat-breath is here to talk with me?"**

"Yes," the Dark Knight replied himself.

**"Well, then, let me say three things to you: **_**off**_** with your**__**head. Off with **_**your**_** head. Off...with...your...**_**head.**_**"**

Cackling laughter echoed across Queensland.

**"I'm at the other end of the maze...again. Good luck getting here, Batsy! I STILL REIGN!"**

More laughter...and, then, silence.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP...

All three turned to the sound of heavy footsteps...

Cheshire hissed as a silhouette appeared on the decayed hedges of the maze.

"The Executioner," he growled. "And, now, we have to run."


	45. Chapter 45

Notes: Track added to soundtrack; please note that it has been changed and rearranged since Chapter 38, so the numbers of past tracks may be different than they are listed. The current number of this track is 40. Also, Alice's rhyme in this chapter is taken from the original version of the Mouse's Tale/Tail from Carroll's original manuscript, _Alice's Adventures Underground._ Now...

**Chapter 45: Heads Will Roll!**

They'd tried everything: bat-o-rangs, the Vorpal Blade, explosive capsules, Jacks-O-Death...

The best they could do was slow the Executioner down with tear gas.

Batman looked back over his shoulder as they turned another corner in the hedge maze: the Executioner was like a train wreck...you didn't want to look, but you found yourself staring anyways.

The thing stood at least twice as tall as Batman himself, a sort of immense Card Soldier with its front seemingly pasted together haphazardly, with a circle of the four suit symbols on its middle. It wore a two-corned hat, similar to the hat of a jester, which was striped in magenta and black. Its gangly, stuffed-toy-like arms ended in bony hands, which were shrouded by magenta gloves. Its boots were the same color, and ended in two toes. Its upper arms had what looked like two pink tentacles wrapped around them, said tentacles seemingly sprouting from its shoulderblades. Another pink tentacle was wrapped around its collar like a scarf. Its face was mostly covered by a magenta mask...and, judging from what was exposed, that was probably a good thing: the skin was a nut-brown color, and shriveled as a prune. Jagged, brownish-colored teeth stuck out in a prominent overbite, and the eye sockets behind the mask were empty...the tips of two more small, pink tentacles poking out from them, twitching like insect antennae.

The Executioner carried an immense scythe, with a blade that seemed to be made of gray stone and was stained with blood. The handle was ornately crafted, with a golden orb at the lower end, and the entire thing striped in a spiraling pattern of black and magenta.

The creature never spoke, but moaned and groaned like a zombie as it followed them, occasionally letting out a low, deep, rumbling laugh whenever it nearly caught them, as it chased them relentlessly through the maze, its scythe spinning wildly as it followed.

"Does this beast know the meaning of rest?" panted Alice Liddell, one hand clutching the brim of her hat as she ran.

"Try the Demon Dice...perhaps a blast of ice will slow it down."

"Worth a shot," mumbled Alice, and flung the dice over her shoulder.

"They'll return to me eventually," she said softly.

No ice sprayed from the dice, but instead a flurry of flames. The Executioner was briefly stunned, surrounded by fire...but with a roar, the brutish ogre lumbered through and continued its pursuit.

The dice floated into the air, and returned to Alice's waiting hand. She shoved them in her pockets.

"A whole lot of nothing, that was," purred Cheshire, cool as a cucumber, his head alone floating between the two.

"Not right now, cat," snapped Alice.

"Do you recall what His Ivory Majesty told you about the Executioner precisely?"

"That it's invincible," Batman growled. "So we've realized."

"Not quite: it's invincible when faced with someone smaller than itself."

"And how do you propose we get larger than THAT monstrosity?" snarled Alice.

"Let's just say, I'll let you eat cake," said the Cheshire Cat, and vanished once more.

The blade of the Executioner's scythe whistled over Alice and Batman's heads half a second later.

"Getting-Large Cake," mumbled Alice. "For once I'm glad that feline's on our side."

"Just wish he told us where it was."

"I'll take one path, you take the other," said the Hattress. "This thing can't pursue us both at the same time."

Batman nodded, and, without any warning, the two of them darted backwards. The Executioner let out a short grunt of surprise, then roared angrily as its prey dashed down two separate paths through the hedge maze.

The zombie-like thing looked at both paths, uncertain...

_**"Well?"**_ came its master's voice a moment later, the rocky tone grinding in its brain. _**"Get the Bat, stupid! The girl can wait."**_

__The Executioner roared again, and, scythe held over its head, ran in Batman's direction.

Batman heard the Executioner's roar, followed by the heavy footsteps of the monster, it was much faster than it seemed. He knew it couldn't kill the creature...not yet, but he needed to slow it down if he had any hopes. Quick as a flash, he reached into his belt and pulled out a series of black, metal discs with red centers. He carefully put three of them on the ground, and quickly covered them, as best he could, with the dead grass of the Majestic Maze.

Then, he turned a corner and ducked down.

The Executioner slowed its pace as it approached. It towered, hideous but determined...little more than a bloodhound after a fox. It let out a short, moaning sound of confusion, and sniffed the air with its short, squashed-looking nose.

Then it took a step.

It cried out in surprise, and then cried out again...and again...and again, a series of explosions stinging at its body.

The Bat had put down land mines.

Batman dashed onward, leaving the Executioner to stumble around in the handmade mine field.

It wasn't long, however, before he heard the creature behind him once more, roaring even louder than before, its footsteps growing faster.

**"Need a little help, slugger?"** came the voice of the Knave of Hearts...everywhere, yet nowhere...sounding snide and disappointed. **"Okay...HAVE AT HIM, MEN!"**

Batman stopped mid-step, as, from out of the ground itself, came four more Undead Card Guards, each skeletal and rotting: there were two Diamonds, wielding wide-barrelled pistols, and the other three were each separate Suits: a Six of Hearts, wielding a buzzsaw-rod, a Six of Clubs, wielding a spiked pole-arm, and a Six of Spades, wielding an axe.

The Cheshire Cat appeared at Batman's side, crouched and ready to fight.

"A Devil's Hand is tough to beat," purred the cat, claws snapping out. "But I think three of a kind might be defeated by three of unkind."

"There's only two of us right now."

The cat raised an eyebrow.

"Sure of ourselves, aren't we?"

The Diamonds fired in unison. Batman ducked, and the Cheshire Cat vanished...only to reappear latched onto shoulder of one Diamond. His teeth bit down on the skeletal Guard's weapon-arm, breaking it off.

The other Diamond turned on its former comrade, and shattered its skeletal body with a single shot.

_Same weakness as before: they kill the weakest link._

At that moment, the Executioner stomped up, bringing its scythe back for a swing...

Batman ducked and rolled away: the Scythe took out the second diamond, its skull rolling to the floor. The creature did not die (a second time) all at once, but rather staggered blindly for a moment...until the Heart's buzzsaw-rod sliced through its marrow.

The Club stepped forward, and brought its pole-arm up, bringing it down toward Batman's head. The Dark Knight dodged and stabbed a bat-o-rang through the Guard.

The Guard only laughed and pulled the blade out again. Smashing it with its pole before lunging at the Caped Crusader.

Batman ducked the lunge, and the Club only had time to scream as the scythe of the Executioner came back in a backhand slice, the single strike scattering its bones everywhere.

The Heart, finished with the fallen Diamond, swung its rod at Batman, who dodged both, and pulled a smoke pellet from his belt. He ducked a third strike, and jammed the pellet straight through the flattened chest of the Undead Card, causing smoke to come up through its barren nostrils and eye sockets. The last of the Cards, the Spade, struck it down immediately with its axe, and then took a swing at Batman.

Batman ducked, and the axe was knocked away from the Spade. The Cheshire Cat appeared out of nowhere, claws piercing through the cardboard near the Spades neck...

One twist was all it took, and the Executioner's axe only helped ensure the Card's destruction.

Now, only the Executioner was left.

The brutish beast narrowed the gap between the cat and the bat and itself, backing them into a dead-end of the Maze.

Batman pulled out a bat-o-rang, while Cheshire hissed in fury.

The Executioner snorted with dim laughter, and raised its scythe...

Then stopped, its empty eyes suddenly looking upwards as a shadow stood over it...

Batman and the Cheshire Cat turned back and looked up as well.

Cheshire's grin widened.

"I always thought you were a little tall for a girl, Alice...now I see I was wrong. You're a LOT."

Indeed she was: the Hattress had apparently found the Getting-Larger Cake the cat had hidden in the maze, and now stood at almost fifty feet high. Her big, green eyes glared down menacingly at the Executioner, a dark smirk on her lips.

_"Came the dog and the cat," _she rhymed quietly. _"Hunting for a rat..."_

She lifted one boot into the air.

The Executioner could only gape, helpless and stunned.

His hands went limp, and he dropped his scythe.

_**"Oh, snap," **_came the voice of the Knave from the creature's mouth.

Then, with a loud THOOM, the Executioner vanished beneath Alice Liddell's foot.

"..._Crushed the mice all flat; each one as he sat. Underneath the mat, warm, and snug, and fat...think of that!"_


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46: Marching Into the Fight**

With a little assistance from the Cheshire Cat, Alice quickly returned to her usual size.

The Knave of Hearts' new guardian, the Executioner, was officially old news.

Batman and the Hattress now were walking carefully through the last section of the Queensland maze; Alice kept her Vorpal Blade in hand, and Batman, hands hidden under his inky, scalloped cape, held a bat-o-rang in each glove. With his newest lieutenant defeated, the Knave would no doubt be very upset.

But, as of yet, no enemies had appeared...the skeletal Undead Card Guards were nowhere to be seen.

"I dislike the feeling of this maze even more than ever," grumbled the Cheshire Cat, swirling into view between them, glancing anxiously from side to side. "Familiarity breeds contempt, they say...I believe proximity should breed violence. Well, _more_ violence."

"Perhaps the Queen's secret controller has given up," Alice suggested, a little too hopefully for anyone's liking (including herself).

"The Knave doesn't know the meaning of surrender," Batman growled.

**"How right you are, Batman!"**

All three looked ahead.

They had come to the end of the maze into an open area, the rubble of the destroyed Heart Palace lying all around them...mismatched stone, splintered wood, and the disgusting, gummy, pink adhesive that had seemed to hold it all together was scattered everywhere...while this had been clear upon entrance, the ruins of Queensland seemed most concentrated here.

And, to Batman's surprise, a single, red tentacle was peeking out from behind a large slab of stone, which seemed to have the body of a toucan stuck to it via the pink goo, and moving in a slow, enticing manner, like a charmed cobra.

**"I'm just over here, Bat-boy...waiting for you..."**

"I know a trap when I see one."

**"That's exactly what makes this fun!" **laughed the disembodied voice of the Knave. **"Of course, you could always turn back..."**

"I'm here to talk."

**"And why should I believe that? For that matter, why should I care?"**

"Does the name 'Dollmaker' mean anything to you?"

There was silence.

For a moment.

**"The perfect guest does not overstay...the perfect guest knows when to leave. That time is now."**

The tentacle disappeared.

Batman ran off toward where it had been.

"Batsy, wait!" called Cheshire.

Batman turned the corner...

Right into a shower of bullets, fired by a Hand of Diamonds.

He ducked back behind the slab of castle stone; his cape was full of holes, but, thankfully, the worst injury he'd suffered was the stinging pain of a bullet grazing his right shoulder.

Alice appeared at his side.

"Next time you suspect a trap, be prepared for one," she said with a smirk, and, without even looking, flung her Vorpal Blade at the Diamonds...

One of the Undead Cards fell as the blade sank into his sternum...he couldn't die again from such a blow, but the force was enough to topple him.

As the blade flipped out from his chest, it cut the barrel of his gun in half.

He was blasted by the firepower of his four fellow cards.

As the knife returned to Alice's hand, she wiped it off on her apron.

"We wait until they reload," Batman said.

"Right," nodded the Hattress.

The Undead Guards emptied their bullets into their fallen comrade. Alice and Batman leapt at them as they stood back to reload and continue their master's mission. Bat-o-rangs took care of two, while Alice shoved a Clockwork Bomb into the mouth of another. Its skull blew apart, and the last Diamond shot his decapitated compatriot down.

While his back was turned, the Hattress stabbed him.

The skeletal beast screamed.

Another stab silenced him.

It took exactly ten stabbing strikes from the Vorpal Blade to kill the Undead Card Guard.

With the Hand of Diamonds defeated, Alice and the Dark Knight ran down the path of rubble again.

They came to an enormous, open area, with only one thing in it: the detached throne room, the great, red, steel doors shut tight. The roof was open and destroyed from the Knave's rise in his last battle with the Caped Crusader. Pink slime covered the entire thing, and the rest of the Palace that had stood around it was, like everything else, reduced to mere slabs and splinters of bloodstained rubble.

Three hands of Cards stood outside the doors. There were three Spades – the Suit Symbols in the centers of their bodies seemingly ripped out, leaving gaping holes – two Diamonds, six Clubs, and four Hearts.

And, on either side of the throne room was a group of four red and pink tentacles...eight in total.

**"I warn you again,"** came the gravelly voice of the Knave from within. He sounded angrier now, and even desperate. **"GO. AWAY. You must return from whence you came, Batman. There is no reason to proceed. Leave me be!"**

Batman responded by flinging a bat-o-rang at one of the eight tentacles that flanked the ruined throne room. It stuck in the scarlet muscle and stayed.

There was a hideous, unearthly shriek – so horrible the Dark Knight covered his ears – and the tentacle shriveled away and collapsed.

**"AWWG!" **screamed the Knave. **"YOU MISERABLE, CHEATING RODENT! GUARDS? GIVE HIM A SEVERE **_**KICKING!"**_

__The two diamonds opened fire. Batman ducked the bullets and flung a second bat-o-rang. It circled around and knocked the guns from the Undead Guards' hands.

Two hearts took them out.

The three Spades came forward as a group. The Cheshire Cat appeared from thin air, and wrenched the axe out of one's hand. He swatted it to the ground, and another Spade proceeded to chop its bony ally into pieces.

The remaining Spade rushed toward Batman. He tossed a capsule of tear gas onto the ground.

It was upsettingly uneffective: the Guard fanned away the gas with his axe and pounced upon its quarry, shrieking like a Boojum, axe held high over its skull...

The Hattress intercepted the Guard, her Hobby Horse extended, and sent its bones flying everywhere with a single swing.

_"I have a little hobby horse, its fur is dapple gray. Its head is made of pea-straw, its tail is made of hay."_

The third Spade raced forward, and ducked a second swing from Alice's Hobby Horse. It grunted and snarled, and jabbed her in the stomach with the handle of its axe. The Hattress let out a short cry of pain and fell to the ground as the Card Guard raised its weapon high...

Batman kicked the axe from its hand, and knocked its head off with a single punch.

Like so many others before it, the Card staggered backward, blindly searching for its lost cranium, only to have its legs literally kicked out from under it.

It did not move again, let alone try to get up.

Now two of the Clubs approached. Batman dodged a swing from one's pole-arm, and grabbed the spiked weapon with both hands. The Undead Card Guard tugged in the other direction...

The Dark Knight won, and one swipe of the pole-arm was all it took to defeat the Guard.

The second Club was just as efficiently taken out by Alice, in the same manner. She flung the pole-arm like a spear, and an approaching Heart fell, suffering its second demise.

The other four Clubs, and the last three Hearts, all came forward.

But the Knave seemed tired of waiting.

**"I take the time to resurrect you imbeciles, and THIS is all you've got?" ** his voice growled. **"Let me show you how its done...and if you get in the way, well, too bad!"**

The raucous laughter of the Knave echoed everywhere as one pink tentacle came slamming down into the ground, just missing the Caped Crusader. A second one came down at him, and he dropped and rolled out of its way as it smacked the ground.

Alice dodged a sweeping swipe from a third tentacle, her Vorpal Blade cutting right through it as she jumped over it. It, too, shriveled up and went limp.

**"Urgh...you know, that REALLY smarts!"**

Alice grunted as another tentacle sent her flying...

Straight towards a Club Card.

She kicked her feet upward, knocking the pole-arm from the Club's hands, and then rolled away as it blandly snatched at her. A second Club struck down its former ally...

And both were crushed by a tentacle.

Batman flung an explosive capsule at an untouched group of tentacles. Two were caught in the blast, and promptly collapsed.

**"ARGH! Oof...let me crush you, already! The pain only lasts a little bit...normally..."**

The Knave, still unseen, giggled and a tentacle swung at Batman in retaliation. Batman ducked, and cut a deep gash into the tentacle.

Now only three of the Knave's tentacles were left. The Cards, most of whom had been trying to dodge their reckless leader's attacks, had not met much success: only three were left: two Hearts and a single Club.

Batman ducked another swinging tentacle, and pounced upon a Heart. The creature snarled, and the two tussled on the ground. The Undead Card came out on top, holding its buzzsaw rod dangerously close to the Caped Crusader's face. Batman grabbed the Card's wrist, driving the buzzsaw blade away from his own neck...

SCHHLICK!

The Card Guard fell into two pieces as its own buzzsaw was turned against it. Batman moved away fast as a pink tentacle came crashing down.

He flung a bat-o-rang, destroying this tentacle quickly.

**"YAAAH! Oh, the PAIN!"**

Both of the remaining tentacles slapped the ground. Batman and the Hattress moved quickly out of the way.

The Cheshire Cat, who had vanished not long ago, reappeared and bit down on one tentacle. The Knave screamed, its tentacle whipping back fast before it crumbled away. The cat went flying...and landed on top of a Card Guard.

Obviously, this Card – the last Club – didn't last much longer.

Now only one Card was left: a Heart. The buzzsaw-toting beast ran at Alice and Batman. In perfect synch with each other, the pair simultaneously performed a spinning-heel kick.

The Card's head went one way, its arms and weapon another, and its body fell in a heap.

The final tentacle whipped in an arc at Batman's head. The Hattress flung her Jacks O' Death...and the Knave was disarmed. Literally.

**"PLEASE!" ** came the voice of the Knave; it was desperate, wild, frenzied...and pleading. _**"JUST GO AWAY!"**_

__Batman glared at the doors of the throne room.

"Cheshire?"

"Hm?" purred the cat, licking some blood from his claws.

"You and the Hattress stay out here...watch out for any other Guards."

"Oh, don't you worry...I've no intention of letting the Knave's goons catch me with my trousers down."

"You don't wear trousers," Alice pointed out with a smirk.

"Figure of speech," hissed Cheshire, irritably.

Batman rolled his eyes.

He approached the throne room slowly.

Cautiously, and with some effort, he opened the doors.

A disgusting stench hit his nose...

_Old meat..._

He took a few deep breaths, trying not to cough, and entered.

It was time to meet his other half.


	47. Chapter 47

Notes: A close friend of mine, who is not, to my knowledge, a member of this site, helped me in writing this chapter. The dialogue in the flashback is quoted from the famed story _Batman: The Killing Joke._ There is also a brief quote from the song _Mad World_ by Gary Jules. I do not own either of these...I just wish I did. Now, with that out of the way, let's move on...

**Chapter 47: Two Sides, Same Card**

Many memories flooded into Batman's head as he entered the ruined throne room of the Palace in Queensland. One particular night stood above all the rest...

_ Batman's eyes narrowed as he watched the figures approaching the ACE Chemical Processing Plant. A stoolie had informed him that the Red Hood Gang would be coming here that night, to sneak in through the factory to the Monarch Playing Card Company next door. _

_ He wasn't sure whether to be happy or upset that this was true._

_ The mischievous grin of a neon sign, bearing the image of a joker card, shone in the night from the building, located behind and to the left of ACE. It had been a month since he had last seen the Red Hood. But there he was...metal domed helmet, painted red, with a concealed gas mask and breathing apparatus inside, and a pair of two-way glass lenses, tinted red, to hide the culprits eyes, allowing him to see out, but not letting anyone see in. He wore a dark blue suit and tie, along with gray gloves, and a white collared shirt. A red cape flashed across his back and shoulders as he moved. He was accompanied by two men, each dressed in a matching gray suit. One was thin, with a long, pointed nose and pencil thin moustache, beady eyes partially concealed by the brim of his fedora. Over his suit he wore a loose-fitting gray trenchcoat. The second man was about a head shorter than the thin man, and rather thick in build, with a bushy moustache, unshaven chin, and a gray derby hat upon his head._

_ He listened carefully to the three of them from his hidden spot behind a few large barrels of acid._

_ "Okay," said the Red Hood, softly, pointing down a passage "We go through here, past the filter tanks, and then Monarch Playing Cards is just beyond a partition."_

_ The Red Hood let out a nervous sounding chuckle, making Batman cock an eyebrow. The last time they had met, the Hood had been nothing if not confident...even cocky._

_ "You know, this place...it looks even worse in red..."_

_ **So, the Red Hood is a former employee?** Thought the Dark Knight._

_ He didn't have much time to think about it, as a sudden, deep voice shouted, "Hey, you! FREEEEZE!"_

_ The Red Hood and his men turned with a start. Batman spotted a single guard, aiming his pistol in the gang's direction._

_ "You said there was no security!" growled the thin man, whipping out a pistol of his own._

_ "They must have altered things since I left..."_

_ "ALTERED things? I'm gonna alter your stupid horse-face, man!"_

_ The thin man fired his gun. The Hood recoiled from the blast with a yelp, and all three men ran deeper into the factory. The guard managed to avoid the shot._

_ Batman leapt from his hiding place, and dashed after the Gang._

_ He heard a second shot, and then, after a short while, a third. There were shouts, and screams..._

_ He rounded a corner, just in time to see the Red Hood scrambling frantically up a ladder to a catwalk nearby. The two mobsters lay on the ground, dead, one shot clear through the side of the head, the other slumped over, a bullet in his chest._

_ Batman glanced quickly around. In all the commotion and quickness, his mind continued working on: this Hood seemed nothing like the Hood he had met before. His voice was higher, and he seemed more...cautious than usual. The way he had jumped when the gun went off told him that he wasn't used to his signature helmet, while the last time he had met the Hood, he seemed to know everything there was to know about it. And to top it all off, the way he and the thin gangster, now lying in a puddle of his own blood, had started arguing when the guard had tried to stop them..._

_ Could it be the Red Hood WASN'T the leader?_

_ There was only one way to find out, and he hadn't much time. He spotted three guards on a railing, opposite of the catwalk the Red Hood now climbed on to. He ducked behind them and grabbed hold, jumping up behind them, unseen and unheard._

_ "He's still in range," murmered one guard, raising his pistol._

_ "No," growled Batman, making his presence known. "No more shooting."_

_ All three guards turned, surprise, fear, and confusion evident on their faces._

_ "I'm here now. I'll take care of it MY way."_

_ Without another word, he ran off the railing, and leapt onto the catwalk. The Red Hood, who had been trying to find some way out, it seemed, stared in horror. The Red Hood, who had been trying to find some way out, it seemed, stared in horror._

_ "So, Red Hood, we meet again."_

_ What happened next would haunt Batman forever._

_ The Red Hood held out a hand, as if he thought it would protect him alone._

_ "No...no, no, no!" he whimpered in fear. "This isn't happening! Oh, dear God, what have you sent to PUNISH me?! Don't come closer! Don't come closer, or I'll...!"_

_ The Red Hood never got to say the word "jump." He leaned back slightly, his foot hit a wet spot on the catwalk (it was a drizzly night), and toppled over the catwalk._

_ Batman instinctively lunged forward, but all he managed to get his hands on was a shred of the Hood's cape._

_ There was a bloodcurdling scream, a loud splash, and silence._

_ Batman stared down into the stinking, green vat of chemical waste, being drained heinously into the canal, just below. He saw something float to the surface._

_ He was surprised to see it was a hand of playing cards. First came a Jack, then a King, an Ace of Spades, a Queen of Hearts..._

_ And last of all, a Black Joker._

Batman shuddered.

_Caterpillar was right,_ he thought. _That was my greatest failure._

He rose his head up as he came to the end of the walkway, which ended aprubtly, a few feet away from the throne itself, which remained suspended upon a column of stone. The roof of the room had caved in at the top, forming a semi-dome of stone and blood. The walkway was also stained with copious amounts of blood, as well as the pink, gummy stuff that had once held Queensland's Palace together.

And, seated in the mangled, golden throne, was the Knave of Hearts.

He had changed since Batman last met him: He wore a purple velvet robe, lined with red fur with black spots. This robe was held closed by a satin belt, colored black, with a buckle in the shape of a silver heart, surrounded by gold flames. The robe was patterned with images of playing card suit symbols, all colored green. From beneath the robe flooded out a flock of red and pink tentacles, just as his puppet, the Queen, had had spilling from her own dress. His hands were abnormally large – even larger than his own head – and were shrouded in red leather gloves, which were shredded at the tips by a series of sharp, green claws, which poked through the cloth. Upon his head was a red plush crown, with a heart shaped ornament atop it, and golden metal bands. The hoop of this crown was also enscribed with suit symbols.

The Knave's face was a chalky white, his blood red lips split into a vast, sardonic grin, revealing craggy yellow teeth. The nose was long and pointed, the chin the same way. Stringy, grass green hair was visible from beneath the crown, slightly covering the bloodshot, turquoise eyes of the beastly usurper.

Batman looked the Knave up and down.

"I remember you differently," he said simply. "I expected something else."

**"Well, of **_**course**_** you did," **the Knave practically purred. **"You don't know your own mind."**

"The same could be said of you."

The Knave chuckled.

**"Of **_**course**_** it can," **he said, exactly as before, **"Because I AM your mind."**

"Then it is a complete stranger."

**"Oh, its STRANGER, all right...you know what the difference between you and me is?"**

"You're a deranged sociopath."

**"Thank you for noticing,"** the Knave said, half to himself, and rolled his eyes. **"Frankly, you aren't exactly on an even keel, yourself...the problem with you, Batsy, is that you believe your world can be saved, a belief that spreads into this one. Me? I don't want to save it...I just want to show the world for what it really is. Dark. Cold. Forbidding. Mad!"**

The Knave giggled and swayed in his throne, tentacles flapping like the tails of eight cats.

_**"Mad world, mad world!"**_ he sang teasingly.

"I did save Wonderland."

**"WRONG!" **roared the Knave, slamming a fist onto the bloodstained arm rest of his throne. **"All you did was suppress me. And why did you do that? Why can't you just see the punchline?"**

"What punchline?" growled Batman, gritting his teeth.

**"The punchline to life, and to Gotham...and to Wonderland!"** giggled the Knave, and waved one enlarged hand carelessly as he spoke. **"You see, here's my philosophy: the world is like an ignorant child. All it does is whine, whine, whine! "It's not fair! I want my mommy! Help me!" Yet, despite all this pleading, does it deserve it? A child looks out for itself, in its mind: it only wants what it doesn't need. "Five more minutes, Daddy! No, I won't pick up my mess! I don't wanna make my bed! My teeth don't need brushing! Why can't I run with the scissors? Hold your tongue, Ma, you're enough to try the patience of an Oyster!" See? It never does what it should, and it needs to be taught a lesson."**

Batman said nothing.

**"Here's the truth,"** hissed the Knave, grinning maliciously. **"Which you can't seem to wrap your itty-bitty-Bat-brain: the world can't be saved. And even if it could, it doesn't deserve it. There is no justice, there is no peace. All there is...is CHAOS. That's me! I am anarchy, I am **_**truth!**_** And you?"**

The Knave cackled.

**"You are a pathetic baby, crying for his pretty little mummy...just like the rest of the universe."**

There was a pause.

**"But...you already know that, don't you?"** crooned the Knave, rising slightly upward, eyes widening. **"You just won't ADMIT it...you have to act like everything you do, some way, somehow, makes perfect sense! Like there's a looking-glass, somewhere, that you can walk through, and find perfection! Alas, if only it were so...real life is often far worse than any nightmare."**

Here the Knave paused, and then giggled.

**"Of course, as I'm sure you've found out, there are exceptions..."**

"Shut up."

The Knave laughed.

**"Geez, you really ARE an idiot!" **he chortled. **"What you claim not to know – that being **_**moi**_** – is merely something which you have denied. You've managed to recapture some of your vagrant memories...so, tell me, Batsy, what exactly are you DOING with them, hm?"**

There was no response.

The Knave sighed.

**"So disappointing...you've had all the time you need, my sweet,"** he said, smirking. **"You just don't have the nerve."**

"Neither did you," snarled the Caped Crusader. "You hid in the shadows, and let the poison of Tetch run free...you overthrew your own queen, and took her place."

**"She was a moronic old hag,"** said the Knave, brushing the remark away with one clawed paw. **"She knew the way, just as I do...but she kept letting that dolt of a husband she had get in the way, pardoning everybody. As Tetch grew stronger, so did I...I took my place. There is no order: a Knave can be a King, or even a Queen, just as well as anyone! Wonderland NEEDED me! Such orders in the midst of all its madness was so...disturbing."**

Now the Knave's expression grew cold and angry.

**"But you didn't understand...you rejected my attempts to control our life...forcefully, might I add. Yet, now, you've allowed another to succeed in **_**MY**_** role!"**

"I never once missed your tentacles...and I won't."

The Knave raised one eyebrow, cocking his head slightly.

**"Oh? You would prefer the hot, STINKING breath, and unyielding attention of yet **_**another**_** potent, unreasoning, uncaring hell-raiser? Somehow, I doubt that."**

Batman raised an eyebrow of his own.

"The Dollmaker?"

**"Yes and no. See, I just wanted to show Wonderland the way...to show YOU the way. And, if things had to burn and lose vital parts on the way, so be it. Anything to get a laugh! But the Infernal Train, and its commissioner, have more...**_**derailed**_** notions."**

Batman sighed in frustration.

"Can't you give me something other than a warning? Caterpillar said you would..."

**"I'd need a better reason than what is currently on offer, Guano-breath."**

"If you don't, we are ALL doomed...including you."

The Knave shook his head, smiling.

**"Not 'doomed,' Batman...simply 'forgotten.' I **_**may**_** survive here. But **_**you're..."**_

__Without warning the Knave rose into the air, suspended by a tentacle that came from the back of his throne, a double-bladed axe materializing in his oversized hands.

For a brief second, Batman saw not a ruin, but a full room, and the white face was suddenly replaced in his mind by a porcelain mask.

_**"...FINISHED!"**_

__The Knave of Hearts lunged bringing the axe down.

Batman barely had time to move out of the way. With a grunt of exertion, the Knave pulled the axe out of the ground, and then lashed out two tentacles, pinning Batman to the ground. The axe came up again...the Knave laughed...

And shrieked, as Batman wrenched free one arm, and slashed one tentacle in half with a bat-o-rang. As the Knave recoiled in pain, Batman flung the bat-o-rang at his "support" tentacle, and followed it up with another.

The Knave fell to the floor, the tentacle no longer able to hold him up.

**"Ouch."**

Batman approached the fallen Knave of Hearts, looming over him.

"Is that the reason you wanted?" he asked, coolly.

The Knave blinked, and then laughed, heaving himself up, and slowly sliding back into his seat, the tentacle vanishing.

**"Heh, heh...you never could take a joke,"** he grinned. **"Fine: here's what I'll tell you...but I know you can already see the pattern of destruction."**

Batman said nothing.

**"The Dollmaker offered the Dormouse and the March Hare a chance at revenge: the so-called peace your defeat of me brought also brought them all together again...but, when this world began to slip, the Hatter returned to his experiments. The Hare and Dormy grew frightened, and fear led to anger, and anger led to hate...as a certain green-skinned, long-eared, old aged, alien dwarf famously said. Dollmaker told them he could give them what they wanted, and that he could make them the masters of this realm. But, first, they had to build him something as a favor."**

"The Train?"

**"My, how exceptionally clever of you, Obvious-man!" **the Knave said, applauding sarcastically. **"The Train is trying to destroy all memory of key moments in your past, most especially...**_**the murder."**_

Batman grimaced.

The Knave chuckled.

**"Now, ask yourself: who would want that? Who could possibly benefit from your madness?"**

Batman bit his lip.

"The destruction of Wonderland is the destruction of me, then?"

**"Indeed! And vice-versa, if what memory you have left can recall it!"**

Batman nodded briskly.

"The Train must be stopped."

**"Indeed. But there's still much work to be done."**

"Where can I find the Dollmaker?"

**"In a place known as the Dollhouse. There is an old train station in the Vale. Use that. Now go...I'm bored of you."**

Batman needed no more urging; he turned on his heel, cape swirling, and stalked out.

The Knave grinned.

**"Look at what's around you, Bat-brain!" **he called after him. **"The 'truth' you claim to seek eludes you because you won't!"**


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48: Dealing With Devils...**

A black knight skipped across a chessboard.

"Your turn," hissed a voice.

After a short pause, a white pawn slid a few squares across.

"Now yours, Professor."

The Scarecrow "hmmed" thoughtfully, bringing a gloved finger to his burlap-shrouded lips. He was dressed in the habiliments of a New England Colonist, with a small, black tricorn hat on his small head, long black gloves that covered his thin, bony hands, a black coat with tails and brass buttons shaped like skulls, a black vest that matched it, and black breeches. Black stockings and large black shoes with brass buckles, containing shovel-blade sized feet, completed the look. His face, however, was covered in a simple mask formed from an old burlap sack, with the holes that allowed him to see and breathe crudely cut. Stitchings covered the mouth area, which had been shaped into a Jack O' Lantern-esque smile, and shredded strings partially covered the acid-green eyes of the man behind the mask.

It fit Jonathan Crane well.

The Mad Hatter sat across from him, chin rested peacefully in one hand as he watched his opponent.

"Well?"

"A moment, Hatter..."

The Hatter chuckled and sat back patiently, still smiling.

At first glance, the two arch-criminals were very different; the Scarecrow was dark and shadowy, his costume, while somewhat strange, was fashioned to create a symbol of terror, and allowed him to better blend in the dark shadows of Gotham City (black was always sheik). He rarely smiled, and when he did, it was never a good sign, and, though hopelessly insane, he was grounded in science, logic, and reality.

In stark contrast, the Hatter's suit was as bright and colorful as the world he claimed to hail from. He sang and danced his way through his schemes, and retained something of a childish innocence despite his wicked dealings. He cared greatly for children, had the manners of a Victorian aristocrat, and didn't like to get his gloves dirty when he could help it. Even in mere physicality, the two were opposites: the Hatter was short and of medium-build, while the Scarecrow was almost seven feet tall and exceedingly lank.

Yet, somehow, the pair had managed to forge something akin to friendship (as criminals, it was still a fairly unsteady matter, naturally), and had learned to put up with each other's differences. Their camaraderie worked strongly because, despite their many differences, they also had several similarities: for one thing both had an interest in the mind, and how to control and bend it. For another, both had a love of literature, and tended to quote excessively (Tetch from the works of Lewis Carroll, and Crane from old nursery rhymes). They were both intellectuals, both scientists, though of two radically different kinds, and, for all the faults and annoyances they found in one another, they rarely argued.

Plus, both loved chess.

And, God, were they good at it.

The Scarecrow had won a fair amount of times, but the Hatter's personal love of _Through the Looking-Glass_ had earned him an equal amount of victories. The Scarecrow smiled, and stretched out one long, thin finger, pushing the Black Queen across the board.

"Your move, Hatter."

"'AhOy! AhOy! ChEcK!'" grumbled Tetch, leaning forward slightly. "I didn't count on that one..."

The Hatter paused for a while, thinking hard about his next move, eyes darting across the board as he worked the puzzle feverishly in his mind.

The Scarecrow smirked.

_"Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold, pease porridge in the pot __**nine...days...old."**_

Tetch glared.

"'If YoU kNeW tImE aS wElL aS I dO, yOu WoUlDn'T tAlK aBoUt WaStInG iT.'"

And he returned his attention to the board.

The March Hare approached, tapping his "master" on the shoulder.

"Psst! Jervis?"

Only the Hare could refer to the Hatter by his real name and live to tell the tale. Tetch shook his head slightly and looked up at him.

"Hm? Yes? What is it?"

"Might I make a suggestion?"

Hatter blinked, and then looked over at Scarecrow.

Crane shrugged.

_"If I'd as much money as I could tell, I never would cry 'young lambs to sell!'"_

The Hatter glared at him, and turned back to the Hare.

"'TaLk, ChIlD.'"

"Unless my youthful eyes deceive me," the Hare whispered with a smile, "A knight-takes-bishop move should work."

The Hatter looked back at the board, and smiled slowly.

" 'I oNlY wIsH I hAd SuCh EyEs,'" he murmered, and did just that. Both the Hare and the Hatter crossed their arms and flashed a smug grin in the Scarecrow's direction.

Crane smirked and sighed softly, making his move.

"Queen takes knight. Checkmate."

The Hatter and March Hare's smiles quickly faded. They stared, wide-eyed, first at the board, then each other.

"'...How fast those Queens can run,'" quoth the Hare, weakly.

"'YoU sHoUlDn'T hAvE pUt It In WiTh ThE bReAd KnIfE,'" was the stern response.

"'It was the best butter...'"

At that moment, a loud beeping caught their attention; it was the alarm the Hatter had set up to warn them of possible intruders.

In an instant, all three had their weapons ready, in case; the Scarecrow readied the spray canister of Fear Gas on his wrist, while the Hatter pulled a machete from somewhere in his coat. The Hare, meanwhile, grabbed a large, wooden mallet.

"Tweedles!" barked the Hatter, and the portly goons quickly entered the room, holding up their fists.

Footsteps drew closer...the door opened...

"Gentlemen. Good to see you."

There was a collective sigh, and all put away their weapons (except for Crane).

"Professor Strange," purred the Scarecrow. _"How do you do, how do you do, and how do you do again?"_

"I'm doing well, Jonathan," said Strange with a smirk, removing the derby on his head and placing it on a nearby hat rack. He stepped forward and the two shook hands.

Strange smiled wider, feeling the canister behind his former students sleeve.

"Toxin at your arm, Mr. Crane?" he queried. "It's almost as if you didn't expect me."

"We didn't," groused the Mad Hatter, sitting back in his seat.

"A pleasure to see you, too, Mr. Tetch."

"March?" the Hatter said, snapping his fingers. "Fetch some tea for us."

The Hare nodded, and prepared to take his leave.

"Ah, that won't be necessary," said Strange, holding up a hand. "I won't be here for long."

"Very well," said the Hatter with a shrug. "Have you got the diamonds yet professor?"

"I have all I need to pay you gentlemen off, and more."

"Really?" asked Crane, crossing his arms. "Then where are they?"

Strange's smile faded. The grip on the cane he held in one hand tightened.

"I don't have them WITH me..."

There was silence.

"I'll have you know, _Hugo Strange,"_ the Hatter began, sitting up a bit taller, "That we had a very good night; we were able to get more jewels from Hargreaves' than we have gotten from you."

"We gave you the chemicals and formulas you required for your little 'experiments,'" Crane put in. "We expect you to return the amount in cash by tomorrow."

"It is my debt that I have come here to discuss."

The Scarecrow and the Hatter glared coldly.

"No late fees," said Tetch.

"I..."

"No excuses," snapped the Scarecrow. _"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride."_

"I know, and..."

"'HoLd YoUr ToNgUe!'" snarled the Hatter, rising to his feet. "We've waited several weeks – in fact, almost two months – for you to give us what you owe, and we haven't even seen the results of your project, or even what it was! If we put forth supplies and/or money, Strange, we want to know what we're investing in."

"I've already told you, Mr. Tetch: I am creating a new breed of criminal. A creature so incredibly powerful that not even the Caped Crusaders will be able to stop it."

_"'When Jack's a very good boy, he shall have cakes and custard; when he does nothing but cry, he shall have nothing but mustard.'"_

"Professor Crane is right, sir; we've waited long enough," growled the Hatter, eyes shadowed by his hat.

Strange cleared his throat.

"And I intend to pay you gentlemen in full. Tonight. And I have something far more valuable to diamonds to do it."

There was a pause.

"Go on," hissed the Scarecrow.

Strange sighed, relieved, and straightened up again.

"Are you, my friends, acquainted with one Oswald C. Cobblepot?"

"Penguin?" piped Tweedledee.

"'HuSh, HuSh! ThE qUeEn WiLl HeAr YoU!'" shushed the Mad Hatter, and turned back around, intrigued. "Yes, sir."

"What of it?" Crane asked, eyes suspicious.

Strange smiled even wider.

"Then I'll ask you fellows the same thing I asked him: what would you say if I told you I knew the secret identity of the Batman?"

There was yet another silence, longer than the first two, and even more tense.

"...We'd say...we're all ears."


	49. Chapter 49

Notes: Sorry about how short this chapter is; the next one, I promise, will be longer. The end is closing in...

**Chapter 49: Not-So-Pure Imagination**

"This fog is as thick as a rat's skull..."

"I think you mean pea soup, Cat," remarked the Hattress.

"You eat what you eat, I'll do likewise," hissed the Cheshire Cat.

"Will you two stop talking for even five minutes?" snarled Batman.

Silence was the only response he got.

The Dark Knight sighed; the route to the Dollhouse was shrouded in smog. The Knave's tentacles had guided them out of Queensland, and onto the proper path.

_**"There is no method in this madness,"**_ the Knave's disembodied voice left as parting words. _**"Make your survival mean something, or EVERYONE'S head will be off."**_

Now, they were moving through a dark, empty area; the ground was hard beneath Batman's feet. It felt like stone...

Suddenly, he stopped short.

"Look," he said, pointing ahead.

Alice Liddell squinted through the fog, a gloved hand on the brim of her hat. The Cheshire Cat sat beside her, yellow eyes shining like lamps in the mist.

A pinprick of warm, golden light glowed not so far ahead.

"Are we nearly there?"

"I hope."

They continued on, moving toward the light.

The Cheshire Cat stopped abruptly. The two others followed suit.

"What's the matter, Cat?"

Cheshire growled softly.

"I hear something," he said, simply. "And I don't like it..."

As they moved closer, the noise became apparent...

_"Help...help, please..."_

As they approached – now moving faster – the source of the cry grew visible.

A tall lamp post – shaped like a candy cane, oddly enough – shone it bright flame through the fog. Tied to the post, under the lantern, were the words _"You're Next."_

They were written in blood.

On the ground was a grisly sight indeed: the Gnome Elder – who had helped Batman on his last journey – was crawling in the dirt.

Well, what was left of him, anyway: the Elder's gray hair had been allowed to grow to a horribly long length, and his eyes were bloodshot, one of them bruised black. His gnarled hands were scraped and actually had small pieces of rock embedded in the skin, his face had a hideous, X-shaped scar covering it...

And he had been sliced in half at the waist.

The wound was black and dark red, as if it had been cauterized the instant it had been made.

The Elder stared up with piercing, pained gray eyes at the approaching party.

"Mister...Wayne..."

"What happened to you?"

"Oh, Gods of Anarchy," moaned the Gnome, and heaved himself forward on his hands, heavy breaths moving through his cleaved torso. "You're back...bless you..."

Batman flinched back as one aged, bloody hand wrapped around his ankle.

"Don't desert us again...don't ignore my words..."

"Why do you suffer, Elder? Where are your people?"

"The D-Dollmaker...my people f-f-fled farther into the Dollhouse realm...Oh, GODS, don't be a mirage..."

The Gnome coughed.

Tar spattered the ground.

"Ruins," snarled Alice, eyes blazing.

"The Knave's power has dwindled...he holds no sway over-"

"Our enemies come and go, B-B-Batman," the dying Gnome gasped out, a single tear running down his aged face. "This new fiend's malevolence eclipses even the conquered Clown's..."

He coughed again. More tar fell from his mouth.

"Help my people...find Fort...Resistance..."

"I'll do what I can."

And that was a promise.

The Gnome Elder smiled, and collapsed into the dirt.

A rattling sound came from his throat.

He was gone.

There was a moment of silence, and then all three continued into the fog.

As some of the mist behind them cleared, one might have seen a pale, ghostly figure trace their movements from behind.

Thin, white lips peeled back in a bloodstained smile.

_"We've plowed, we've sowed, we've reaped, we've mowed, we've got our harvest in..."_


End file.
